Troubled Times
by Nighshae
Summary: Things are finally starting to look up as the culprits who poisoned Daniel are caught.... Or are they? Definate teamfic with some long missed friends. Please, R&R.
1. Chapter 1

Not mine, wish it were. Set at some point between Chimera and Heroes, and is probably a bit AU since I don't like killing off good characters just to boost the ratings or shake up the viewers.

Colonel Jack O'Neill sat to one side of his superior officer, and wondered again why he'd let himself be dragged all the way to the Pentagon for these meetings. He didn't have the temperament to deal with bureaucratic idiots who hadn't been out on the front lines in decades, if ever, and it always seemed to him that the penny pinchers were the worse of the lot.

They were going over the budget for the SGC in detail at the moment, primarily working out which sections needed more funding to run at full efficiency. It was a yearly headache that he and Hammond had to spend weeks putting the damn thing together, then come up to the Pentagon to defend every penny they needed to keep the war with the Goa'uld going. And this year it didn't help that he kept getting the feeling that he was overlooking something in these finished papers, something important, but he couldn't _quite_ put his finger on what it was.

Major General George Hammond was getting the same feeling, looking confused and troubled as he read over each department and their approved allocations for the upcoming year. "This doesn't look too bad," he finally admitted to the general and aides who had joined the pair for this discussion. General Harding was known for not giving an inch when he thought things were unnecessary, but he was also known for making sure that money got where it needed to go. "I keep getting the feeling that something's been forgotten, however," he admitted.

"What department?" Harding asked, looking over the pages. "You were saying you needed more scientists to work with Major Carter, and you got your funding to expand the Alpha site."

"We were hoping to start a Beta site as well," O'Neill stated, looking over the pages. "Daniel wanted to have a place where they could better work on his rocks without having the guys from Area 51 snatching them away before he was half done with them."

Hammond rolled his eyes at the 'rocks' comment. "Alien artifacts and translations," he clarified to the bemused looking General. "Dr. Daniel Jackson is in charge of Archeology, Anthropology and Linguistics for the SGC."

O'Neill suddenly flipped through his papers, as did General Harding. "Bingo!" the colonel crowed, looking up at the older general as he tapped on the folder in front of him. "Why the hell isn't Danny's divisions listed here?"

Harding, however, was looking confused and shaking his head. "I'm not exactly sure, Colonel," he admitted, reaching for his phone and dialing in an extension number. "This is General Harding, give me Colonel Cartwright," he ordered, then paused a moment as the call was put through. "Colonel, why were three departments removed from the documents you reviewed for me last week? The lower Cheyenne Mountain installation, yes," he clarified, scowling as he realized he may have made a major mistake. "Were you ever briefed on the installation, Colonel?" he asked after listening for nearly a minute. "I see. I'll have to see about correcting that oversight. Thank you, Colonel," he told the man, and hung up. "George, I'm sorry. I had no idea that Cartwright hadn't been briefed on the SGC. I had him do the review without thinking about it, and he says he couldn't see any reason to have those departments on a base in the middle of Colorado. It looks like he took it on himself to cut the three divisions completely out of the budget."

"Oh, damn it…," O'Neill swore under his breath, as Hammond looked quite worried. "Is it to much to hope that word of this snafu hasn't spread back to the base yet?" he asked, trying his damnedest to be polite. "Otherwise, we're going to have some _really _pissed off people back there needing calming. Considering the number of times Daniel's been knocked about like a punching bag, he wouldn't take well to finding out his job's just been cut."

Harding sighed. "Unfortunately, it's probably gotten back by now. Standard procedure is to send letters out immediately, so civilian layoffs and notices of reassignments to the military personnel have probably already gone out. Hopefully, though, you can get word to your people before they arrive and you wind up with mass panic. I'll take care of things from this end to clear up the mess and do my best to be sure that this doesn't cause some sort of payroll hiccup."

Hammond agreed as O'Neill reached for his cell phone and waited for the speed dial to connect him with his 2IC. Hammond himself turned his attention to the man on his left. "Major Davis, would you be so good as to get me the information on Dr. Jackson's departments?" he requested. "Number of personnel, their budget for the last few years and the like."

Davis rose. "Of course, sir," he replied, and headed out to get the information off the computer in the next office.

Turning his attention back to Harding, Hammond frowned. "Does this mean we're going to have to hash everything out again?" he asked.

"No, this was my mistake so we'll pull funding out of general overdraft to cover the cost," Harding assured him as O'Neill was connected to the base's current commander, Major Samantha Carter.

O'Neill left the table, going to stand by a window as the pair talked softly for several minutes before he returned to the table, snapping his cell phone shut and putting it away with a grimace. "The letters just arrived," he stated. "She had just heard from Nyan when I called, and she said she'll go talk to everyone and calm them down, let them know it was all a big mistake. Most of them are off world right now, including Daniel, and she thinks most of the letters are still there. She's not sure about one of them… Supplies to Daniel's dig went through a little over an hour ago, and it's possible the mail went with it."

"That could be very bad," Hammond mused. "Can they send a message through?"

"Not right now. They'll have a window in two hours where they can get ahold of them again. SG-7 is bringing through artifacts from one planet, and there's supplies waiting to go through to the Alpha site right after they're done," O'Neill explained. "Two teams are due in right after that."

"Sounds like that gate of yours stays busy," Harding noted as Davis came back in carrying only a couple pieces of paper and looking rather worried. "Major?" he questioned.

"Generals, it looks as though the problem is a lot bigger than we suspected," Davis told them as he took his seat again. "Dr Jackson's departments are severely understaffed right now. Among the three departments, there are only twenty-seven personnel, including Dr. Jackson himself."

"Twenty-seven?" O'Neill questioned, surprised. "No, there's got to be more personnel then that."

"Here's the list," Davis told him, sliding the paper across to him to look over. "Their budget is bare minimum, and has been the last two years. They've lost a lot of people in the field, or the departments would have run out of money months ago."

Hammond wasn't happy to hear this. "I wasn't aware it was this bad," he stated, as he and O'Neill looked the pages over. "It would also explain why all of them are looking so tired all the time, they're running themselves into the ground trying to keep up."

"Most of them have been off world for weeks at a time," O'Neill mused. "They come in and go right back out again. It's the ones that stay on base the most that are running themselves down."

"How important are these personnel?" one of Harding's men asked, his tone curious as he leaned forward onto the table, his arms crossed. "I can actually see why Colonel Cartwright made the mistake he did, if he knew nothing about the program."

"Would you go out and fire the CIA or the FBI and expect the police to keep up with things getting ready to go down around the states?" O'Neill asked. "Those departments are _our_ intelligence agencies. They take all the information about old cultures that used the Stargate and work out where we might be able to find allies and items that will help us fight off our enemies. They're the people that let us walk into a primitive village and talk to people who don't understand any language the rest of the team might know because it vanished off of earth two thousand years ago. They figure out the strange customs that might get people hurt or killed because we don't know them, and often they're the ones that work out the deals that let us actually stay on those worlds and sometimes study things that do turn out to be a big help."

"Dr Jackson is the SGC's best diplomat and negotiator," Hammond told them. "And he's trained his people very well. I had no idea, however, that the departments had been cut back this far, or that we'd lost so many people."

"How easy is it to replace the people and bring the departments up to full strength?" Harding asked.

"Not very," O'Neill told them, his voice now taking on a bitter tone. "Good Anthropology and Archeology masters and professors that we can bring into the SGC are rare. Most of them believe that Daniel's theories are just garbage and consider him to be insane for making the claims to begin with, and they don't want anything to do with a project that has him in it. Since any way to prove Daniel right would mean making the Stargate public knowledge, there's no way for us to get him some credit with the bastards…."

Hammond and the others all looked at him in surprise at his tone. "Colonel?" Harding asked, wanting some clarification.

O'Neill stood up and paced a bit, his hands clasped behind his back. Finally he stopped in front of the window, looking out over the Pentagon's inner courtyard. "About a month ago, Daniel and I took a trip into Denver to see a new Archeology exhibit opening at the museum there," he told them after a few minutes. "We hit the first day it was open for viewing, and he was so excited to get to see the new things that had been found, he was practically bouncing his way into the building. However, it turned out to be a major mistake for us to go so soon, we should have given things at least a week to clear out and calm down. There were a good dozen Archeology professors there, people with Daniel's level of knowledge, but without his imagination and ability to see outside the box. Several of them recognized him, and they verbally ripped him to shreds before I could get him out of there." O'Neill slammed his hand, hard, against the wall beside him. "The things they said to him, the way they were acting, just took the air right out of him and hurt him to the core. Oh, they were polite about it, which made it even worse, we couldn't claim harassment and get them thrown out of the building. But they made damn sure that he heard every snide comment about 'outrageous ideas' and 'demented thinking' they could make."

Harding looked shocked while Hammond leaned back in his chair. "Is that when you took him on that little trip, Jack?" he asked gently.

"Yeah, took him up to my cabin in Minnesota for a few days to help him get things out of his system, and we did a side trip to New York," he sighed, remembering how _quiet_ Daniel had been that week, a warning sign to his friends and teammates that something was seriously wrong. O'Neill turned to face them, leaning against the windowsill. "If we could have swung going to Egypt, I would have, but with the current feeling in the Middle East, I didn't dare take him over there. General, we need people for the SGC, yes, but it has to be the _right_ people, people who aren't going to want to take Daniel down and cause trouble just because they don't agree with his theories. And from what I've seen, the military just doesn't have that many people who fit the bill for what we need."

"We have looked," Davis added, fiddling with his pen. "Anyone who has any major aptitude in those fields of study is brought into the SGC as soon as we discover them and they pass the background checks."

"Are you talking just the Air Force, or have you looked at other military branches?" Harding questioned.

"Air Force and Marines," Davis replied. "I didn't think we could draw from the other forces."

"Why not?" Harding asked. "Army has plenty of linguists and anthropologists, but I don't know about archeologists. You might want to start checking among the other forces, and see what you can find. It may be that some of the personnel could lead you back to civilians who would be more open minded about the project." Reaching across the table, he took the list that Hammond had been perusing and brought it around to check it out in turn. "Tell me more about this Dr. Jackson," he told the pair. "I don't believe I've ever met him."

"No sir, you haven't," O'Neill told him. "Daniel wasn't with us the time you came by, he was gone, we had Jonas Quinn in his position at the time."

"Ah, I remember Mr. Quinn. What happened to him?"

"He moved back to his home planet after we found Daniel again. They'd nearly blown themselves up once while he was gone, and they were hoping that he could keep things between the three main countries running smoothly so they didn't do it again," O'Neill explained. "Besides, Quinn never was as good in the position as Daniel was. He was second rank, and knew it."

Hammond spoke before O'Neill could go on. "Dr. Daniel Jackson is a real genius, one of those people who just absorb knowledge like a sponge. He speaks thirty-four different languages, is familiar with most ancient cultures that have existed on this planet, and has turned out to be a brilliant diplomat. He's also the SGC's moral conscience. He's the one that makes us take a step back when we find something that isn't quite right and ask 'do we really want to do this?'. He has saved us from ourselves more times than I really want to think about."

"And helped save the world a few times as well." O'Neill added. "We lost him for nearly a year, and it was a miracle that we got him back. The chances of us ever finding the planet he'd been dropped on were one in a million. At least."

Harding leaned back in his own chair, matching Hammond's 'at ease' pose. "Has he been happy in the program?"

O'Neill hesitated over that one. "For the most part, yes. There have been down times, though. He joined SG-1 to find his wife when Apophis kidnapped her and her brother from Abydos and made them hosts. We rescued Skaara, but Sha're was killed to keep her Goa'uld from killing Daniel. Needless to say loosing her damn near killed him," O'Neill stated. "In fact, if it hadn't been for the team and the work, he might well have disappeared for good. They'd only been together a year, were deeply in love, and he'd spend nearly three years looking for her. We've called on him to do a lot of things that went against his moral codes, but that had to be done to preserve Earth, and he's never, ever, let us down."

"So, he's a widower then." Harding stated. "Any family at all?"

"His grandfather died the year he was gone," Hammond replied. "His parents were killed right before his eyes in a tragic accident when he was eight, and he spent years in the foster care system before he entered college at the age of fifteen. He and his wife had no children before she was lost."

Harding winced, shaking his head. "So he's completely alone then."

"No, not completely," O'Neill stated. "He's got SG-1, and we're all family."

"How long has your team been together, Colonel?" Harding asked, curious now as he gave O'Neill a measured look. Most teams in the military were broken up and reformed after a maximum of two years.

"Nearly eight years, General, though we had Quinn and not Daniel last year," O'Neill replied, his look wary, he knew full well what Harding was thinking about. "You don't tamper with success, sir."

Harding smiled in agreement, trying to set the man at ease. "No, I quite understand, especially given the odd trouble that your team is known for getting into. And out of. And this world out of as well, so we owe it to you not to tamper with your group. And to get your people the help they need. Now, let's look this over, and see what we can come up with, financially at least, that will help the good doctor with his work." He pursed his lips at the number of staff. "You should have at least double or even triple this number for each department," he mused. "Granted, military personnel have a set pay scale, but hiring civilians, which seems to be necessary in this case, is much more expensive. According to this, Dr Jackson's salary is in the six-digit category, and if he's running three departments, it definitely should be. But why is he running three departments? Why isn't there three different department heads?"

"Because the three departments all have to work together, and it's better if only one person has overall control," Hammond explained. "He does have seconds in each department, yes, but all those people answer to him, and can come to him when they get stumped by something. And, in some ways, there really only is _one _department, though some of the linguists might protest that generalization. You can't be an Archeologist or an Anthropologist without having some linguist ability to understand what you find. And while we could get any number of linguists who speak modern languages, finding them that speak and read _ancient_ languages is far, far more difficult."

"Is there anyone outside the SGC that you could call on to assist with this endeavor?" Harding asked.

"Not that I'm aware of," Hammond stated, but noticed O'Neill's look. "Jack?" he questioned.

"There are one or two people who might be able to help. Davis, where is Sarah Gardner?"

"Just recently moved back to Chicago," came the immediate reply. "I thought that she'd already been offered a position and turned it down?"

"She did," O'Neill agreed. "However, she also knows all about the program, and is more in touch with people in the field now then Daniel is. She's not in disgrace for making these wild claims about the age of the pyramids. Maybe she could point out some people who might be able to come in and who we can trust to keep their mouths shut and not want to publish everything they learn every week."

Davis smiled. "Dr Jackson is very good about passing his papers to me to put away. We ever go public with the Stargate, he's going to be filling up tomes full of articles for months. I have well over a hundred on disk, just waiting for the day we can turn them loose."

"Papers?" Harding questioned. "As in reports?"

"Something like that, sir," Davis explained. "Archeologists publish in monthly journals to update each other on major finds. A sharing of information, if you will, so that when one archeologist finds something new, they can look to see if someone else is dealing with anything similar. Dr Jackson published some thirty papers before he fell into disgrace. He's written a lot for the journals about what he's seen on other worlds, but of course those papers can't be published. So he's passed them all on to me. When we finally release word of the Stargate to the public, those papers will likely be used to help people understand what's really out there. And how wrong our history really is."

"I see…. Well, then, let's see what we can do to get the good doctor some real help, and the resources to build up his 'intelligence network'," Harding told them, and settled into working up the figures on what the three departments would need to grow as they should have years ago. He looked over the prior records, asked some questions, added more to allow for growth, and had things in shape in about ten or fifteen minutes. "I had no idea how much you really needed these people, or I would have allocated more for these departments before now. But, as they say, better late than never."

O'Neill agreed, his humor now much improved. "Danny is going to love this," he mused, smirking a bit. "This is more to work with than he's ever had the chance for. Maybe he can finally work real 8 hour days without worrying about the workload piling up behind him."

They had just finished when O'Neill's cell phone went off, startling all of them. Quickly he pulled it out, checked the number and answered it. "Carter, what's up?" he asked, his tone just a bit sharp at the interruption. Hammond started looking concerned, though, and the others were silent as O'Neill's look went from mildly annoyed to startled, to seriously worried. It was nearly a minute, though, before he spoke again. "All right, Davis is here, and I'll see if he knows of someone to send. Is Fraiser with him? Good. Yeah, I'll be on the next plane out of here to the Springs if I can't get a jet into Peterson. I'll let you know which. Just take care of him, and reassure everyone that things are fine, they can disregard those damn letters. It was a mistake, and they should never have been sent. No, they're not cutting the departments, in fact they just got a huge budget increase. I'll fill you in more later when I arrive. Right, let me know if things change," O'Neill ordered and shut off the phone. "Davis, do you know of a cardiac specialist that has high security clearance? Or can you find one really fast, they need another doc there pronto…"

Davis nodded, confused, as Hammond spoke. "Jack, what's going on?" he questioned.

O'Neill's look was grim, any trace of humor gone. "SG-11 just came back through the gate about ten minutes ago, they managed to get in between the rushes. Daniel's collapsed, and is in critical condition. Fraiser says he's had a heart attack…."

TBC

Well, this is my first try at something like this. Do you like, or should I give the idea up now? Please, let me know? Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

Please note, I am not a medical doctor, or a pilot. I am going by what makes the most sense to my line of thinking, and hopefully, I'm getting at least something close to reality here. 

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Colonel Abigail Sinclair settled back into her flight seat, checking her instruments and looking forward to the long flight back to Washington DC. She would make a fuel stop at an airstrip outside of Chicago before turning south to her final destination. In the meantime, it was just she, the old Corsair and the open blue sky overhead.

"PTJ1998, this is Peterson Base flight control, come in please," came a voice over her radio.

So much for peace and quiet, she mused as she reached for her radio control, brushing back the scarf that kept the light breeze off her neck and pushed her bright red hair out of her face. The Corsair was a delight to fly, but drafty, and stray strands were always escaping out from under her cap. "Peterson Base, this is PTJ1998, go ahead," she replied.

"Colonel Sinclair, we were asked to bring you in for a medical emergency at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex," came the immediate response, followed by a coordinates change to bring her to Peterson base itself. "Arrangements are being made to supply hanger space here for your aircraft while you're at the complex. Over."

"Peterson Base, where is this _request_ coming from?" Abby asked, wondering who in the world had managed to find out where she'd be right now. As far as she knew, only one person had her flight plans…

"The order is from the President through USAF Major Paul Davis, Colonel," was the immediate reply. "Over."

"Course change has been made, ETA is one hour," Abby told them, impressed. "PTJ1998 out."

Adjusting her course towards the mountains of Colorado, she settled back into her seat again, wondering what was going on this time. Paul knew she loved her flying time, and for him to give up the information on where she'd be and when, it had to be something major. In spite of their differences in rank, they'd been dating for over two months, and she still didn't know exactly what he did in the Pentagon. Well, she knew it had something to do with Cheyenne, so maybe she'd finally find out some answers. It had surprised her when, in spite of her own high clearance, he'd admitted it wasn't high enough for him to tell her about his duties as the Cheyenne/Pentagon liaison. Her own duties were classified because of the people she worked _on, _so they were both in the same boat there. When you were the doctor for three-dozen bigwigs in the capital, including the president's wife, you didn't talk about your work to anyone. It helped that early in their relationship, she and Paul had agreed that other than asking if the day had gone good or bad, they just didn't talk about work at home.

Forty-five minutes later Peterson Base reestablished contact to give her directions to land at one of their outer runways, informing her that a driver would be arriving momentarily to pick her up and someone was on their way to bring her plane in. It would be checked, refueled and kept ready for her departure.

The runway was definitely out of the way, and probably used only for planes like her own, it was in no shape for the use of jets like the F-16 she spotted approaching as she came around the mountains and lined up for her own landing. The old Corsair handled the few bumps without protest, and coasted to a stop near a waiting hauler and driver. She was pleased to see it was an older man at the wheel, someone old enough that he may have worked on the old planes before if she were any judge. He gave her a toothy smile as she opened the cockpit hatch and turned to grab her bag from behind the seat. "Good looking bird there, Colonel. Don't worry, I'll take care of her myself, she'll be ready to go whenever you need her."

"Thank you, Master Sergeant," she told him, her tone grateful as she unzipped her leather flight jacket, then removed the scarf. "I was told there was going to be a driver here to get me?" she asked, lowering her bag to him after slipping the scarf into a side pocket, then sliding down the side of the plane to join him on the ground.

"Should be just a minute, Ma'am," he assured her, motioning to another runway half hidden by trees. "They're picking up Colonel O'Neill, he just came in in that F-16. They'll swing by to pick you up then take you both over to catch a chopper up to the mountain."

"Colonel O'Neill?" she asked, quite startled to hear that name. "Not Jack O'Neill, surely? I heard he'd retired years ago."

"Been 2IC at the mountain's lower complex for years," he told her. "Here they come for you now."

Turning, she saw the black SUV heading down the runway towards them, two people inside. As they got closer, she could see that one of them was definitely an airman, dressed in standard camo uniform, but the second man was much older, and still in his flight gear. He stepped out after they pulled to a stop only a few feet away, reaching to open the back door for her as she took her bag back from the sergeant. "Abby? Wasn't expecting our incoming heart specialist to be you," he told her in a rather surprised tone.

"Jack," she replied, swinging her bag in, then following after it and picking up the folder sitting on the seat. She noticed the page sitting on top of it, and the pen the driver had turned to offer her. "Non-disclosure form?" she asked, reading through it. "Not the typical one, though."

"Where you're going is considerably more than 'top secret'," O'Neill told her as he got back in the vehicle. "Sign it, Abby. Davis told me you've been itching to find out about his job for months, even if he did neglect to tell me who you were. He probably didn't know we knew each other."

She considered for only a moment, then took the pen, signed her name, dated the page and handed both back to the driver before opening up the folder. It contained, as she figured it would, a brief medical history of her patient and any information she needed on his current condition, including some recent blood work. Some of the figures made her frown as she considered what had raised or lowered them to such extremes. She knew of several compounds that could do it, all of which could be deadly if handled the wrong way, and all of which could cause major heart attacks.

They transferred to a helicopter after a few minutes in the car, and she moved on, reading through his general file and injury lists, noting that _how_ _or where_ he had been injured wasn't listed in any of the cases, the sole exception being the somewhat normal condition of severe appendicitis. And judging from the notes, he had damn well waited to long to tell his doctor about it to, it had nearly killed him. The rest seemed to be a mixture of numerous concussions, contusions, some fairly serious burns and an unidentified drug addiction that no detail was given for, including the drug in question. She winced at the last page, which seemed to be a _very_ long list of drug and natural allergies. "Good lord, how did he get into the military with this many allergies?" she muttered.

O'Neill, however, heard her. "He's not in the military," he told her. "Dr. Daniel Jackson, Civilian contractor and consultant. Archeologist, Anthropologist and Linguistics are his fields of work, though he's gotten good with a P90 in the last few years. Our CMO is a good surgeon and GP but her main field of expertise is in infectious diseases. Took her two months to come up with just the right formula to keep Daniel's allergies under control in the field."

"Sounds like you know him well," Abby stated.

He chuckled at that. "Oh, yeah. He's on my team."

"Never figured you to become a desk jockey," she admitted as the helicopter came down to land on the top of Cheyenne Mountain. "Figured you'd retire first."

"Who said anything about me being a desk jockey?" O'Neill asked her as they touched down and he unbuckled his belt while an airman opened the door beside them. Their conversation had to stop then until they'd gotten out, turned their bags over to men waiting to take them, and they headed for the elevator down. "I'm still out in the field, have been the last eight years or so. We get below, I'll tell you a bit more about it," he promised as they went down to sub-level 10. He signed in, then motioned for her to do the same as the waiting SF handed her a visitor's pass before leading the way to a second elevator that opened on their approach. "This is the point you check reality at the door," he told her, then turned. "Ah, Carter. How's Danny doing?"

Holding the elevator for them was a younger blond woman, probably in her mid to late thirties if Abby was any judge. She was dressed in base blues, the jacket open to show the black tank underneath and Abby didn't miss the gun calluses that was on her right hand as she held the door open; Or the Major's tabs on her collar. "He's stable, but barely," the woman reported as they entered the elevator and she let the door close so they could head downwards into the bowels of the mountain. "Janet's been sedating him to keep him from trying to insist there's nothing wrong and heading back to P4C-848."

Looking from her CO to the new doctor and back, Major Samantha Carter quirked an eyebrow at O'Neill, who took the hint. "Colonel Doctor Abigail Sinclair, meet Major Doctor Samantha Carter," he told them both, leaning back against the wall. "Abby, Carter here is my team 2IC, and one of the Air Forces leading experts in the field of Astrophysics."

Abby gave the woman a nod and a smile. "Two scientists, Jack?" she asked, her voice showing her curiosity, and there was just a hint of teasing in her hazel gray eyes. "Thought you didn't like working with scientists?"

The quirked eyebrow turned her way. "You've worked with the Colonel?" Carter asked her, intrigued.

"Oh, nearly ten years ago," Abby explained. "Went in medicine because of him. I deal primarily with upper brass and government officials these days because of my high security clearance."

"Which probably just went up a couple of notches," Carter told her. "Welcome to Stargate Command, Doctor, just wish it could be under better circumstances. Sir," she told him, turning to address O'Neil. "Janet is working in the labs right now, trying to get something that come back figured out. It looks like this wasn't just a normal heart attack. There's evidence now that he was poisoned. Janet's working on finding out what they used."

"What?" O'Neill demanded, caught completely by surprise at this revelation. He came out of his slouch as she caught his full attention.

Before either could ask more questions the elevator stopped on the 21st floor and they exited, Carter leading the way towards the medical center while Jack trailed along behind them, his expression going from alarm to worry, then sliding towards a mixture of anger and concern. Abby's fingers tapped idly on the folder she was still carrying as Carter led her in and through the empty medical ward to the observation rooms. "We got your uniform sizes from your records, Colonel, so there's something more comfortable waiting for you if you want to change out of that flight gear. Sir, SG-11 is still on base if you want to talk to them."

"Yes, I'm definitely going to want to have a chat with the boys," O'Neill assured her. They went on to see Daniel as Abby was led away by a waiting nurse to change before being led to the observation room where her patient was waiting.

As she entered, a pair of doctors in white lab coats immediately spotted her and moved to introduce themselves. One was a surgeon, Dr. Warner, but the other, smaller figure introduced herself as Dr Janet Fraiser, the bases' CMO. "Thank you for coming," she told Abby with a pleasant, but worried, smile as she led the way to their patient. Her own brunette hair was pulled back out of her way into a neat coif, while Abby kept hers clipped back behind her neck when she worked. "We've done scans to check his heart for any damage, and so far the results have been minor, but his blood work and a careful study of the item he was holding when he collapsed _did _indicate that he was poisoned."

Abby nodded in agreement, looking the young man over. "I know of several drugs that could cause these symptoms," she admitted. "Several of them can be absorbed through the skin and will trigger a major cardiac arrest."

"It's a good guess that's what got him," Janet agreed. "We're running further tests on the letter he received to be sure. In the meantime, we need to see what we can do to get that out of his system and be sure that we've gotten it all off his hands so that his body isn't absorbing more of it. I think we've gotten it all, but I don't know for sure."

Turning her full attention to her patient, Abby was a bit surprised to find a very fit young man in the ward's bed, pillows helping to prop him up and keep him comfortable though he was unconscious at the moment. Heart monitors were beeping softly to one side of him, and beyond them was the familiar sight of a waiting crash cart. "How many attacks has he had?" she asked, reaching to take his pulse and feeling the strong muscles under her fingers, but a very weak pulse rate.

Janet's voice was decidedly worried. "Two, and we nearly lost him both times. He's exhausted, I don't know if he could survive a third attack or not," Janet replied, reaching to brush back the man's chocolate brown hair with a very gentle touch. "I don't know how to treat this, I haven't had to deal with this situation before. I could learn, yes, if I can find the right resources, but I don't know that he has the time."

Since she knew that was probably right, Abby just nodded, and directed the doctor and her staff on how to proceed.

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Out of his flight suit and into his BDUs, O'Neill headed for the SGC's main briefing room, where he knew most of the people he wanted to talk to would be waiting. Janet and Abby were doing their best for Daniel, and he had work to do, and knew it, much as he'd rather stay with his friend. He had sent Carter ahead, and she was waiting there with his team's fourth member, Teal'c, as well as the members of SG-11. As he came through the hall past the general's office, O'Neill immediately spotted Major Harper and gave him a glare. "Next time you go out scientist sitting, I'll give you Felger," he told the hapless major. "At least if you kill him off, it will be to our good luck."

"Colonel, how the hell was I supposed to guess that someone was going to try to poison Dr. Jackson?" Harper asked, raising his hands in a helpless gesture, then pointed to a piece of paper on the mahogany table. "Especially through the mail, of all things. Dr. Fraiser has the original, but she did make us a copy, and it's a nasty piece of goods, Colonel."

Picking it up, O'Neill swiftly read through the short letter, coming to a dead stop as he frowned in confusion over the terms and sheer petty _viciousness_ there. He slowly started to read it again, this time his look swiftly changing from confusion to anger. "Who all has read this?" he asked.

Harper nodded. "Just me," he stated. "And the doc, of course."

"You touched the original?" O'Neill questioned, anger turning to concern. "You told Fraiser that?"

"Yes, sir. She had me wash my hands a half dozen times down there with different cleansers. Thing is, I caught a glimpse of what it was saying before I picked it up, and figured that we needed to preserve it as 'evidence' for harassment. I put it straight into one of Dr. Jackson's sample bags to keep from smudging any fingerprints that might be on it. Skin contact was minimal, laid the bag on the ground and just tapped along the edge of the letter to get it in. Then read it through the bag."

"Probably saved yourself from going through what Daniel's going through now," O'Neill mused.

Carter looked over the table, trying to see the writing. "Is it really that bad?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," O'Neill told her, and began to read it out loud, his voice tight.

"It's about time that you said goodbye, Dr. Jackson. After all, the money that was wasted on your miserable departments now can be used for more useful and productive research than for your frivolous theoretical and hypothetical dreams. Such a waste all those years were. Now we can get down to some real research and forget how you tainted everything. This project needs real people, not you, sitting there in your nice cushy job, expounding on your far-fetched theories. Smells like a load of bullshit. The people that were under you, unfortunately, have to be let go, too. Thanks to you, we can't have your stink still lingering about after all. I wonder how in the hell you got this job to begin with? Did special favors for Katherine? She was obviously senile to begin with. Slept your way to the top perhaps? Figured you were the Golden Boy, eh? Things don't look so rosy now. Time for a reality check. And it's about time. You know, you really are a disgrace to the name of science and archeology. Oh, and don't go thinking you'll find employment elsewhere. After all, your reputation in the field, as it is, is. . well. . how shall we say. . tedious at best? At least we'll have the luxury of having someone else that's more responsible in charge of those departments, someone who cares about the work and not his own self-gratification like you. Enjoy your extended vacation . . . I know we will . . ."

Teal'c turned from the window, his look passive, but his anger showing through his furrowed brows and tight jaw. "There is no honor in such an attack, and such words are entirely untrue."

Carter nodded in agreement to that statement. "As soon as Major Harper got the copy of it from Janet we sent it on to Major Davis' office. He confirmed that he received it, and was taking it to General Hammond and General Harding," she told O'Neill, her look still one of shock as she took a seat at the table. The others did the same and watched as O'Neill throttled down his outrage. "He was quite appalled that something like that went out, and very surprised," she continued. "He said that yes, he could see Colonel Cartwright jumping the gun and doing the layoff letters to begin with to try to impress General Harding with his efficiency, but to send out something like _that_? At the very best he'd receive a sharp reprimand from his superiors for it. And the letters shouldn't have gone out at all without General Harding's approval in the first place."

O'Neill agreed, and tried to keep his temper under control; he'd take it out on the punching bag later. "Harper, what the hell happened out there?" he asked, shifting his attention back to the other Major.

"We got the FRED through the gate right on schedule, Dr Jackson and Evans were just covering up the dig site for the evening when it arrived, it was nightfall on P4C-848. Without the light, even Dr. Jackson was forced to give up for the day and call it quits, a sure way to get him to come in to eat and get some sleep at night. We were taking advantage of the situation and kept coming up with excuses not to set up the generator and lights for the dig site."

Considering this idea, O'Neill nodded in agreement. He was going to have to remember that trick, though with Carter's technical creativity, he wasn't sure that SG-1 would be able to fool their archeologist as well as SG-11 had. Still, it might be well worth the try. "Like the idea," he admitted. "I'll have to keep that one in mind."

Carter gave him her best 'Don't even ask me to help,' look as Harper continued. "We had just finished dinner and were unpacking the boxes when Smith handed out the mail to everyone. Dr Jackson was surprised to get something from the Pentagon, needless to say. He opened it up, read it through, murmured 'oh my God', and just slumped back into his bedroll."

"We wouldn't have thought much of it, Colonel, but I happened to be looking at him as he read the thing, and I just watched the color and life go out of him," stated Evans, Harper's 2IC. "Even just by firelight, I could see him going pale. When he just slumped back into the bedroll, I got concerned and went to check that he was all right. Major Bishop is our EMT and I called him over as soon as I realized that Dr. Jackson wasn't conscious."

Bishop, a large black man who nearly matched Teal'c for size and strength took over the story there. "Dr Jackson's pulse was irregular, his blood pressure low and his breathing was labored. I was able to use oxygen and emergency medication to help stabilize him while we tried to dial out, but it was nearly ten minutes before we could establish a gate back. As soon as we got it, we brought him back through, alerting the base to the medical emergency. His heart stopped as we got him onto the gurney in the gate room and Dr Fraiser took over at that point. I assisted with CPR until we got him to medical, then got out of the way of the professionals."

"You were professional enough to keep him alive _long_ enough to get to the doctors," O'Neill told him softly. "Thank you for that, and I plan on seeing to it you get a commendation in your file for it. Major Harper, will SG-11 be able to continue working on the dig without Daniel's help?"

"We were within a day or two of finishing," Harper told him. "Dr Jackson was sure he'd gotten the last of the dig unburied, it was simply a matter of freeing things up, getting them crated and brought back through. Yeah, we can do that on our own."

"Good. Go ahead and get a hot meal and a good sleep here, you might as well take advantage of it to grab a shower and a soft bed for a change before you head back out. You can go back first thing after breakfast tomorrow, planetary time. I'll let the cafeteria know you'll be heading out earlier than usual, and we'll slot you in for a 0500 departure. Dismissed, gentlemen, and thank you very much for bringing him home alive, at least."

There were murmurs as the four man team headed out, leaving O'Neill with Carter and Teal'c. The big Jaffa warrior giving Bishop his own form of salute, a hand to the chest and a half bow as the soldier went past him, then joined the other two. "It was a narrow escape for DanielJackson this time, O'Neill," he stated.

"I'm not sure he did escape," O'Neill admitted. "This could take him out of action for good. A heart attack isn't easy to recover from, Teal'c, and he's had two so far from this damn poison. Add ongoing stress with the job, and it could keep him from going through the gate ever again. He's had a hard year all around, ever since he got back. First loosing his memory and having to work so much to get it back. The 'lifeboat' incident, a body just isn't made to hold thirteen personalities. That flood, then being tortured down in South America before I could get him out of there and the run in with Osirus and that memory device. Add the stresses of working with three severely understaffed divisions and I would say that his heart has good reason to give up the ghost on him."

"Understaffed, sir?" Carter asked, confused.

"Davis looked things up. Daniel's got less than thirty people working all three divisions. I'm figuring we didn't realize it was so bad because his people are always going on and off world so often we didn't realize that all the empty desks were because there weren't enough people to need them."

Carter mulled this over. "That's not a good situation, sir."

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed. "Do your superiors not understand how important these divisions are to the running of this base?"

"General Harding does now, and has allocated enough funds to at least triple the personnel. The problem will be finding people to bring in to begin with." O'Neill leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the table. "I suggested they might want to talk to Sarah Gardner. Davis says she's recently returned to her work in Chicago."

"That could be a very good plan, sir. If she's teaching again, she would be in a position to know which students would work with Daniel, and who would only come in to cause him trouble."

"Did you not work with Dr Gardner while she was here, Major Carter?" Teal'c questioned. "Perhaps it should be yourself, not Major Davis, who approaches her for assistance."

O'Neill considered this. "I know she avoided Teal'c and I like the plague while she was here," he admitted. "Can't blame her, really, given what happened while we were going after Osirus. Was pure luck we got her back at all."

Carter considered this, then nodded in agreement. "I think you might be right, sir. If you want her contacted, I'm probably the better choice to do it with Daniel out of action." She hesitated a moment, then plunged on, curiosity getting the better of her. "Dr Sinclair was in black ops?" she asked.

"Tried to be," O'Neill replied. "She didn't make it. She could take a guy down at twenty yards with a gun, but when it came to the silent 'slit the throat from behind' thing, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Hated loosing her, she was one of the best wingmen I ever had, but I had to wash her out. Was a hell of a medic, and interested in learning more, was always spending free time with the EMTs on the base and learning everything they'd teach her. When I had to fail her, I talked the CO into getting the Air Force to let her have a try as a doctor. Last I heard, she'd passed the entrance courses and was being added to the candidates going to medical school. Obviously, she did well."

"Given your history, it is ironic that it was she who arrived to care for DanielJackson," Teal'c pointed out.

"The world works in strange ways, T. She's Davis' lady too, which is _really_ ironic."

"Something between you two, sir?" Carter asked quietly.

"No, nothing like that. I was still married to Sara at the point I was teaching her, and Charlie was about seven or so. It's just that I asked Davis if he knew of a heart specialist with high clearance when you called and told me what happened to Danny. Turned out he did, and I knew her too. Very ironic. I wish them both well."

Checking her watch, Carter nodded. "I see. Well, it probably will be several hours before we know more about Daniel's condition, sir. We could try to catch General Hammond between meetings and see what he and General Harding has found out," she suggested.

"No, he'll call…" O'Neill started, then paused as the phone rang. "See?" he told her, reaching to pick it up. "O'Neill here."

"Jack, we just got done talking to Colonel Cartwright," George Hammond told him. "That letter _was not_ the letter that he had written to Dr Jackson, and in fact the letters weren't suppose to have been mailed out yet at all. He has no idea where it came from, how the stack got mailed out, and unless he's a better actor than you are, we feel he's telling the truth."

"Which means someone, somehow, added the letter and sent the whole packet on to the mail room," O'Neill mused. "He have any clue who could have done it? With contact poison on that letter, it had to have been handled very carefully."

"Not at this point, no, but General Harding has him working on a list. Jack, how is Daniel doing?"

"Dr. Sinclair arrived about a half hour ago, and they're working on the problem. There's no word yet on how things are going, but she had a good idea what could have been used. I'm putting Major Bishop in for a commendation, George. We would have lost Danny again if he hadn't been there, Bishop kept him alive for ten minutes before they got back through the gate."

"That was too damn close, Jack. I definitely want to get more staff in to help him, take some of that load off his shoulders and give him a chance to take a break. Do you still think that Dr Gardner might help?"

"Yes, George, I do. However, I want to send Carter up to contact her rather than Davis. We think she might be a bit calmer about things talking to another woman. Teal'c suggested it."

"I can see that, and I agree. Get her on it as soon as possible. Jack, this is going to take time as it is, and the sooner we get started, the sooner we can get that problem out of the way."

"Yes, sir, I'll let Carter know. Anything else, sir?"

"I'll be staying the weekend with Major Davis. Keep me appraised on Daniel's condition, Colonel," Hammond told him in a stern tone that made the request an order.

"Will do, sir. I'll call later this evening after they have him better stabilized and have some idea what really happened. It may be about midnight, your time, however."

"Not a problem, Jack, we'll be waiting up for the call," Hammond assured him, and let him get back to his work.

"That was interesting," O'Neill told his companions, hanging up the phone. "You were right, Carter, those letters were actually waiting in the wings; they weren't suppose to have been mailed yet."

"Someone's pulled quite a number then," Carter mused. "Got them out of his office, added a poisoned letter and then got them delivered? Mail room should have some sort of receipt for them."

"Hadn't thought of that, I'll remind the general later. Carter, he wants you to go ahead and contact Sarah Gardner ASAP. You shouldn't have any trouble finding her at the school, and hopefully she'll be willing to help us."

"I hope so too, otherwise we're really going to have a hell of time finding staff," Carter admitted. "I had better go start making arrangements, I could be there a few days," she pointed out, nodding to him before turning to go out, then came to a stop at the sight of an airman holding the door politely for Colonel Sinclair. "Colonel Sinclair?" she asked, surprised to see her so soon.

Jack turned in his seat, then came to his feet. "Abby, how's Daniel?" he asked, worried.

"He'll make it, but it may take him out of action for months," she warned. "He had two major heart attacks and while the damage was minimal, it's not something you recover from in just a week or two. He'll need to be moved into a stress-free environment, get some good rest, then start therapy to rebuild his strength. It will be slow, and he'll have to be carefully monitored."

"Damn…. Getting Daniel to rest is damn near impossible; the man's a workaholic," O'Neill groaned. "And we can't spare Fraiser to keep him down and under control, there's just too much need for her here."

Abby raised an eyebrow, then turned to look at the third figure in the room, her eyes going wide at the sight of the powerfully built, black man. "Um..," she started, then paused, confused, as she realized that the raised gold swirl on his forehead was somehow attached to his skin and not just painted on.

"Oh, sorry," O'Neill apologized. "Colonel Abigail Sinclair, meet Teal'c, the fourth member of my team. The four of us make up SG-1."

"SG?" she asked, now really starting to look confused.

A red light started flashing, and a klaxon went off, echoing through the base. "Unscheduled Offworld Activation," a man's voice came over the intercom system.

"Stargate," O'Neill explained, then motioned to the huge window behind him. "Come see for yourself," he told her.

Approaching the window carefully, she watched in stunned amazement as the inner part of the great ring in the open room below turned back and forth like a combination lock. Its strange symbols paused from time to time, an open wedge at the top of the ring sliding down over one before the ring turned the other way. "What is it?" she asked, awed at the sight.

"It's a doorway to other worlds," O'Neill told her, waving Carter off to go get things going for her assigned task. He turned back as the seventh symbol locked into place and the central area of the ring exploded outwards, then retracted, forming a silver blue pool. He steadied Abby as she automatically jumped backwards, expecting that response. A moment later a group of six soldiers came through, handing over weapons to waiting airmen as the armed guards in the room relaxed. "SG-2," O'Neill explained. "Marines make up our main fighting force, so they go out a couple times a week for combat drills."

"They were among the free Jaffa today, working out tactics with my people to aid in upcoming battles against our common enemies," Teal'c told her. He gave her an oddly regal nod of his head that almost came across as a bow. "Thank you for coming here, Colonel Sinclair, to aid DanielJackson."

Abby was trying to wrap their words around to something that made sense to the world as she knew it and was failing. "You're welcome," she responded automatically, then did a double take. "Wait a minute. You mean, you're an alien?" she asked him.

"Indeed," he confirmed. "I am from a world called 'Chulak'. I denounced my god and joined the fighters of the Tau'ri nearly eight of your years ago."

O'Neill smirked at her look. "Welcome to Davis' world, Abby, and mine. Have a seat, I think we have a lot to tell you."

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'Beep…'

'Beep…'

'Beep…'

Even barely conscious, it was a sound that Daniel knew all to well, and he let out a soft groan of protest as he took inventory on waking. Prongs up his nose, check. Patches on his chest, check. Needles in his arm, check.

"Daniel?" a familiar voice stated at his side.

Oh, irritated mother hen Colonel at his bedside. Check.

Yep, he was definitely in the infirmary.

"You know, it was suppose to be you giving _me_ the heart attack, not having one yourself," came Jack's bland voice from beside him. "You really need to stop doing things like this and get back to the script."

"Hmmmm?" he questioned, voice hoarse and his throat telling him he didn't really want to talk yet as it recovered from a lingering soreness that felt all too familiar. "Heart attack?"

"Yep," came Jack's reply from his right as a smoother hand took Daniel wrist from the left side. "That letter you got had contact poison on it."

"I'm not old enough to have a heart attack," Daniel argued softly, still a bit on the groggy side as he tried to get his eyes to open. He got them to crack open at least, letting him see O'Neill in his usual chair beside him, and a tall figure on his left he was pretty sure he didn't know. He tried to push himself up a bit, but his body didn't want to cooperate, and both figures reached to prevent him from trying to move even as the pain pushed him back into the pillows.

"You need to lie still," the unfamiliar woman told him, reaching for a cup of water on the bedside table and helping him to take a few sips through a straw. "Don't try to move at all at this point, after two bouts of CPR you probably aren't feeling so hot, and your body is just way too weak."

"Is that why my chest hurts?" Daniel asked, trying to breathe shallow breaths.

"You've got several cracked ribs, and are probably feeling the results of having to be electrically resuscitated. Dr. Fraiser had to use the paddles several times during each attack to keep you alive."

"Where _is_ Janet?" he asked, missing the familiar presence at his side, though this new doc didn't _feel_ too bad to him. She had the same sort of soothing feeling that Janet had, though it was not quite as strong.

"Getting some sleep, which is what you and Jack both need to do," she assured him kindly. "You're going to be laid up for quite some time to recover from this. Believe me, right now sitting up at all would exhaust you in five minutes, much less trying to get up and walk."

"But the dig…," he protested weakly.

"Harper and the boys are heading back in a few hours," O'Neill interjected, knowing full well the protest was more from habit than any real concern that the men couldn't handle the project. "He told me the main excavation was done, all that was left was getting things packaged and crated to come back. Was he wrong?"

"Well, no, but…."

"Well, if you've trained them right, which I'm sure you have, they should have no trouble finishing up the dig without you. And believe you me, they would much rather have you here where they don't have to worry about you."

Daniel sighed. "What time is it?" he asked, tired.

"2300 or so," Abby told him. "You should try to sleep. It's probably the only thing you're going to be doing for the next week or so. The soreness in your chest will start to fade about the time the ribs heal and you start feeling like moving again."

Daniel tried to protest again, but O'Neill cut him off. "Daniel, I don't think you heard what I said a bit ago," he stated firmly. "That letter you got was covered in contact poison, and it damn near killed you. You're not going anywhere, except maybe into hiding until we find out who was responsible."

"And that won't be for several weeks, you're no where near strong enough to be moved," Abby told Daniel. "Get some rest now. We can talk later, I'm hanging around for a few days to be sure you're over the worst of this."

Daniel nodded, his body gradually relaxing back into sleep once more…

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"Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find Dr. Sarah Gardner?" a smooth voice interrupted the student's reading.

Looking up, the young man blinked at the sight of the waiting blond in the perfectly pressed knee length skirt and jacket suit combo, smile on her face and a lightweight briefcase in hand. "Dr Gardner?" he asked, startled. Something about this woman came across as 'authority', and there had been some odd stories about Dr. Gardner. "Um, is there some sort of problem?"

"No problem at all, I just need to talk to her about some issues concerning a mutual friend. Where can I find her?" Carter asked again, her smile growing at his concern. It was nice to know that the students were looking out for her at least. "It is a matter of some urgency."

"Um, right," the young man replied, pulling a piece of paper out of the back of his notebook. He quickly drew out some directions and gave her a room number. "She has a class going right now, though," he warned.

"Well, I don't mind waiting," Carter assured him. "I'll just slip in, find a quiet spot and listen in, that shouldn't be a problem should it?"

"Um, no, probably not with her," the student admitted. "She's pretty easy going."

Going up two flights of stairs and following the student's directions, it didn't take Carter long to find the right room, Dr Gardner's name on the brass plate hanging on the door itself under the frosted glass window, a 'class in session' sign right under it. Hoping she was right, and that Sarah _wouldn't_ mind, she took a deep breath, half opened the door, and slipped inside….


	3. Chapter 3

After dropping Carter off to catch her plane in the early hours of the morning, O'Neill went immediately back to the base, checking in and heading straight down to medical to find out how Daniel's night had gone. Abby had insisted he go home to get some rest about midnight, just after Daniel had gone back to sleep. She had assured O'Neill that she would be sitting with him until Janet took over in the early hours of the morning.

Entering Janet's domain, he headed immediately for the observation room, only to be caught up short by someone calling his name. He turned, recognizing one of the nurses and she pointed off towards the wing of private rooms. "He's in number 4," she told him, then turned back to dealing with Siler. The master sergeant had apparently dropped his massive wrench again, if the bandage going on his foot was any indication.

Reaching room 4, O'Neill looked in through the open door, immediately spotting doctor and patient caught in a rather vulnerable moment. Janet was sitting on the edge of Daniel's bed and he was in a reclining position, his head resting on her shoulder with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and hers. It looked like he was asleep, his eyes were closed and he seemed fully relaxed, but O'Neill's experienced eyes caught the signs of tension in the young man's face; the furrowed brow that he knew sleep wouldn't quite ease.

He let out the slightest sigh at the sight, and Janet's head turned his direction, catching his eye and nodding for him to come in. "Bad night?" O'Neill asked, concerned.

"Panic attack," she explained, her voice barely audible. "Help me ease him back, would you? He's heavy."

Quickly slipping around the bed, O'Neill helped her ease Daniel back into the pillows, Janet pulling the soft, thick blanket around his shoulders and over his arms as she got him settled again. "He finally remembered what that damn letter said, and just panicked. I may have to keep him under sedation for a while until he starts to recover his strength. We don't need him working himself into a third heart attack," the doctor told him.

"You tell him that everything has been taken care of, that he's still got his job?"

"Oh, yes," she assured him. "And I think he listened to me, so hopefully he'll be calmer when he wakes up again."

"How is he, really?" O'Neill questioned. "Abby said it could be months before he fully recovered from this, if he recovers at all."

"She's right about that, I'm afraid, barring intervention from Jacob or one our other allies," Janet admitted. "His heart _has_ been damaged by the attacks. As things stand now, I won't be able to clear him to go back through the gate again, at least not to anywhere where there might be any hint of danger. Any major stress could trigger more attacks."

"In other words, his office is going to be it unless someone comes through for us," O'Neill stated, brushing his fingers back through his short hair. "Great. Well, Carter sent a message on to her dad this morning, but our contact with the Tok'ra has been sporadic at best, and definitely unreliable. They're as likely to ignore the request as they are to pass it on."

"That doesn't sound like a good indication of our relationship with them."

"Our relationship with them has basically gone down the toilet. And I think it'll probably get worse before it gets better. Our methods have cost them people, according to them. And I know that's the truth, since I've heard it from Jacob."

"They have a zero population growth," Janet mused. "So they feel their very survival is in danger."

"Right," O'Neill admitted. "And with neither side willing to tell the other what their big plans are, they feel they can't afford to work with us."

Janet shook her head. "Definitely not a good situation. Well, to finish answering your question, Daniel is stable for now, but his condition could change at any time and head either direction. I've got some serious worries that he could pick up a respiratory infection or even pneumonia, neither is uncommon following a heart attack of this magnitude. Either could finish what the poison started." She reached to brush back Daniel's hair from his face, then settled the blankets more comfortably across his chest before smoothing down the one that was under him and wrapped up around his shoulders from below. "We're going to keep him warm, and use medicated breathing treatments to try to keep infections from setting in. Other than that, all we can really do is get him to rest and be ready to step in if he has any further problems. I'm _hoping_ he's over the worse of this."

"Daniel never does things the easy way, Doc. I wouldn't count on that," O'Neill reminded her softly.

"I know," she agreed. "Abby told me how you got her into the medical practice. Good work there, Colonel, she's definitely got the right attitude for a good doctor."

"Thought so, and she was certainly interested enough in the opportunity when I first knew her. Though she's damn good with a P-90 and a sniper rifle too."

"I'm out of practice with the P-90," Abby commented from behind him, her voice hinting at her amusement. "Janet, he settled down?"

"He's asleep. Hopefully he'll stay that way for a while."

"Are those panic attacks common?" Abby asked as she moved to check the monitors that were keeping track of Daniel's vital signs. She frowned at a couple of them, unhappy with what they were telling her.

"Not any more," O'Neill assured her. "Problem is, that damn letter had enough truth to it in his mind to be seriously damaging."

Janet nodded in agreement, taking a seat next to Daniel's bed and keeping his right hand in hers to monitor his pulse "If he were to leave the program, he'd have some pretty major trouble finding work. Because of his theories, the archeological community has made a pariah of him, never mind the fact that they're true; the evidence is all so classified most of our government leaders has no idea the Stargate exists, much less that there are aliens out there who want to take over the world. With only one or two rare exceptions, most archeologists think Daniel's out of his mind."

"Now, I understand he's also a linguist?" Abby questioned. "How many languages does he know? And wouldn't he be able to get work as a translator?"

"Earth based, twenty-six," Janet replied. "Out there… Another six or eight, I think. If for some reason he were put out of the SGC, the NID would probably love to have him at area 51. For the most part, he's refused to work with them."

"Damn…," O'Neill cursed. "Yeah, they would probably love to have him. Enough to set him up to leave the SGC… No, why would they try to kill him if they wanted him for themselves?" he mused, leaning back against the wall. "I've been trying to figure out why the hell someone would want him out of here bad enough to try to kill him."

"I'm actually glad Daniel was offworld when he got that letter," Janet commented dourly. "I don't want to think about what would have happened if he'd gotten that and was alone in his office when he started reading it."

O'Neill slowly nodded. "He would have been gone before we found him," he agreed. It was a sobering thought.

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Slipping into Sarah's class quietly was easier than Carter had thought it would be. Sarah had them all enthralled with her lecturing and no one noticed as the door opened, then softly closed again. The closest seats were only a few steps away, she realized, and headed for them.

The classroom was done with raised seating that must have dated back nearly a century or so, but was still in excellent condition. It reminded her of the old operating theaters of nearly a century ago, railed counters with seats behind them rose in three levels, allowing those on the upper levels excellent views of the items on the teacher's table below. Several chairs on the lowest level were empty and she moved to sit down before she disrupted Sarah's class.

The lecture went on about another ten minutes before Sarah turned to take questions and finally spotted Carter sitting in the bottom row. She hesitated only a moment, then moved on to discuss the subject of the day, which was, interestingly enough, the age of the pyramids and the theories about how they may have been built.

Listening to the growing debate behind her, Carter came to realize that the class was fairly divided in its opinions. A good half of the group believed in the old way of thinking, while the rest seemed to be more open to other ideas, including Daniel's theories about the age of the pyramids being incorrect. "Is there really any evidence that points to the five thousand year date being wrong?" one student, a young lady, asked.

"If there is, it hasn't been released yet," Sarah told them. "Though there certainly does seem to be some evidence that the age of the nearby sphinx is incorrect. If one is wrong, is it possible the other is as well? Dr. Jackson's theory wasn't based on the new evidence, but it does bring up the question as to whether or not he might have been right, just for the wrong reason."

"Jackson's a quack," one of the young men behind Carter stated, disgust in his voice. "It's been nine years, and he still hasn't come forward with more supposed 'proof' for his theories. He should have done the smart thing to begin with and just told the world he was kidding, it was all a big joke. You know, who believes that space men built the pyramids as landing pads for their ships? Would be pretty weird ships to land on something shaped like that."

"Or men from Atlantis?" stated a younger woman behind him. "Absolute idiocy, saying something like that."

"Yes, it was, which is why Dr Jackson never made that claim," Sarah pointed out. "Nor did he ever make any sort of claims about who _did _make the pyramids. His only claim was his belief that they were not made when everyone believes they were made. Now, as I mentioned a moment ago, a similar claim has been made about the nearby sphinx, and the evidence to back that claim is fairly clear. It's based on geology, though, not archeology."

"The water erosion theory?" one of the other students asked.

"Exactly. People don't want to accept that theory any more than they want to consider the pyramids being older than five thousand years old, but the honest truth is that both theories have valid points backing them up. Now, since everyone seems so interested in the subject of Dr Jackson's work, I would like you all to look up his last lecture on the Internet and read through the transcript in its entirety. Please take notes on who exactly stated what, and we'll go over it briefly at the start of class on Monday. In the meantime, don't forget you all have papers due by the end of next week as well. Dismissed."

The students all headed out, giving Carter curious looks but not pausing to ask questions. It took only a few minutes for the two of them to be left alone, and Carter came down to give Sarah a hug, which the woman warmly returned. "It's good to see you again. How are you doing?"

"Well, actually. It's good to be back to work again," Sarah replied. "It took me a bit to catch up, but it also gave me a good distraction while I was putting my life back together again. There were some nights, I really needed that distraction."

"I know what you mean," Carter admitted. "I tried not to disrupt your class when I slipped in. I hope you didn't mind."

"Not at all, and I didn't hardly notice the door opening. I thought it was a late student, a couple were missing today. But what brings you here? And how is Daniel? I haven't heard from him for a few weeks." Sarah motioned her to a nearby table where she had several items and some papers spread out, a trio of stools around it. "Please, have a seat and fill me in where you can."

Carter sighed as she took one of the stools. "Well, first off, Daniel isn't doing too well right now. He… had two heart attacks yesterday that turned out to be caused by a very strong contact poison. Someone tried to kill him."

Sarah's cheerful look changed to one of horror and shock as she sank down onto another stool. "What? Why would anyone try to kill Daniel? How bad is his condition?"

"Very serious, I'm afraid, but Janet is hopeful for a good recovery. Without outside intervention, however, he probably won't be doing fieldwork again. The two attacks occurred within an hour or so of each other, and there was damage done to his heart. The outside agent that caused them to begin with has been neutralized, but still, there is a chance for further attacks in the future. And at this point we have no idea who tried to kill him, or why. We just know that the poisoned letter was somehow slipped into an official packet being held at the Pentagon, and sent out from there without clearance."

"I can see someone out in the field wanting to get rid of Daniel, he's been a major thorn in some people's sides, but here? And someone in the pentagon? That makes no sense at all."

Piece by piece, Carter explained what exactly had happened, and Sarah just stared at her, stunned, at the end. "How in the world could they hand things like that over to someone who knew nothing about the project?"

"General Harding apparently didn't know the colonel didn't have clearance. At any rate, the situation's been fixed, but now we know that Daniel needs a lot more help. Which is what brought me here."

Sarah's eyes went wide with nervous fear. "I won't go back there, Sam. I can't, I'm still trying to get over what happened to me, and to be that close to it…"

"I know," Carter told her hastily. "We won't ask you, we trust you to know that if and when you're ready to join us, the door is open. But we're hoping you know students, or even teachers, here, that would work with the project."

"Field teams?" Sarah asked. "Not many, Sam, that's very, very dangerous work. I know of a few, perhaps, but no more than three or four, and all of them senior students. For the base, though, I could name you a good dozen or so that would be interested in working with Daniel. Including a few senior staff that have gotten too old to go on field assignments and are interested in getting some sort of pension together."

"Archeologists?" Carter asked, intrigued at the notion. "But aren't the older ones the ones most likely to give Daniel trouble? Granted, we can prove his theories are in fact fact, but still, I would think they'd be the ones most likely to think it's some sort of scam."

"I'm talking about people who _taught _Daniel when he was a fifteen year old freshman attending classes with people five years his senior, at least. People who he consulted when he was pulling together the information to back his different theories. Believe it or not, the ones that give him the most trouble are the field archeologists, the ones who are usually in charge of the digs, not the people who are working with what those people bring back to the schools and museums. Many of _them_ still remember Daniel, and would love to work with him again. In fact, I know of one who if I didn't send you to, would shoot me if she found out afterwards. Old Maggie Mae may be near seventy years old, but she's a spry seventy and Daniel was her favorite student when he was here. She works down in the archives, and was a sort of surrogate grandmother to him when he first arrived. He used to spend a lot of time in the archives section, and she made sure the older students didn't bother him."

"Seventy? Why hasn't she retired?" Carter asked, rather shocked.

"Teachers make good money here, but most of it gets turned around and spent to get out in the field on the off season. Grant money gets spent mostly for supplies and transportation, and local hire. The field teams draw in minimum wages, they're out there to learn and discover history, not make big money. That only comes if they find something valuable and can put out a book on it, like Steven did. Most archeologists are actually rather on the poor side."

"Except Daniel…" Carter pointed out wryly. "He makes more money than the Colonel does. I think."

"It's possible, I don't know how much a civilian consultant to the military makes. But with his language skills, they should be paying him the big bucks, and have been. Do you have any idea how _expensive_ some of the books are that he has in that office of his? I know he has one that he probably outbid this school to get his hands on, there's only ten in existence that I'm aware of. Believe me, he has very good reason to be paranoid about the colonel going into his office," Sarah assured her.

"Is that the one that came in the armored car with an armed bodyguard?" Carter asked. "I remember going up with Daniel to sign for it at the outer gate."

"That's the one. The school had a quarter million set aside to buy that book, and Daniel snatched it out of their hands at the last minute by topping their bid. Actually, I rather hope the government reimbursed him on that one. One of the pictures we found inside of it was a drawing of the pieces of a hand device."

Carter closed her eyes and shook her head. It wasn't something she wanted to contemplate. "Ouch!"

"Oh, yes, listening to them trying to figure out what _that_ was would have been very interesting. Especially if Steven ever saw the picture. He was hit by one of those things, after all." She winced at the half remembered memory. "I'm glad I can't do things like that any more."

Carter looked down at the table, carefully studying her hands rather than looking at Sarah. "Actually, you could. You have enough traces of Naquadah in your system to still use both a hand device and a healing device. Just like I can. I killed Seth with one, years ago."

"Thank you for the warning, if one ever shows up here, I'll know now not to touch it," Sarah told her, and Carter could tell she meant it. "I recall a lot of what happened while I wasn't in control, and I have no desire at all to ever hurt anyone like that again."

It was definitely time to change the subject. "So, who do you know of that would do well at the SGC?" Carter asked, smiling as she looked back up to catch Sarah's gaze. "We need people, lots of them, and since you know what we need, and who's here, we're hoping you can help us cut down on the paper and leg work."

Sarah smiled back at her. "How long were you planning on staying?" she asked, leaning her chin on her hand, elbow on the table. "This is actually my lunch hour, and I have the next hour after that for a study time, rather than a class. If you'll agree to stay at my place, and yes, I do have a spare bedroom, not a couch, and help me grade tests this weekend we can go do lunch at the cafeteria and I'll point out some people you might want to talk to. Deal?"

"Sounds good to me, I hadn't gotten a hotel room yet," Carter told her, both women rising from the table and heading out together. "Just so long as the food isn't as bad as the PX back at the base."

"It's not, I promise you, and they do have blue jello," Sarah teased. "Daniel told me you're partial to blue raspberry."

"If they have that, I'll be happy," was the laughing reply.

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Hammond studied Colonel Cartwright, considering his mannerisms as the young colonel awaited their questions. "Why did you write up those letters to begin with?" he asked the young man, his hands clasped on the back of the chair in front of him as he stood to one side of the office. "Why didn't you wait for orders from General Harding on the matter?"

"I did, sir," he replied, standing at strict attention in front of Harding's large desk. He was looking square at Harding seated behind the desk, but saw Hammond out of the corner of his eye. "I sent an email message to the General asking several questions when the review for this base arrived on my desk, sir."

"Exactly what questions did you ask?" Hammond inquired, trading thoughtful glances with Major Davis, who was standing at ease near the door.

"The base has a security rating higher than I currently hold, sir. I asked if he had actually meant for me to do the review or was it suppose to have gone to someone else. At that time I was unaware that there were actually two separate bases at Cheyenne Mountain, sir."

Harding nodded. "I got that message, and sent back a reply that yes, I wanted you to do it because I wanted to see what sort of questions you would come up with about their types of personnel and their various expenditures."

"Yes, sir. When I started doing the review, sirs, I noticed several divisions with very highly paid personnel, but I couldn't come up with an explanation for their presence in that sort of base. Archeologists, Anthropologists, and a surprisingly large number of linguists are employed at the base, and from the figures involved, they are each making a substantial salary above that which the military normally pays. The figures are more in line for top of the line civilian consultants, but that seemed out of place with the base's high security. I sent a message to General Harding requesting information on those three divisions and was told that those people should not have been employed there. He went on further to state that I was to send out termination papers immediately and get them out of there."

Harding looked stunned. "I never got a message asking about those people, and I sure as hell never sent a message stating they should be eliminated," he insisted, sitting up straight in his chair and looking over at Hammond. "I didn't get that message, George."

Hammond didn't look a bit surprised. "Colonel, where did you go from there?" he asked the equally surprised Cartwright.

"I wrote up the letters as required, and had them in a delivery packet, sirs, but I knew there was to be a review in person and held them back, waiting to be sure that there wasn't a last minute change. I sent General Harding a message stating that I had removed those divisions from the budget, reworking the funds in elsewhere, and was waiting for final orders on sending the termination notices out."

"When did you last see the notices?" Harding asked. "We've gotten conflicting reports on you sending or not sending them out."

"I checked before I came here, sir, they appear to still be where I left them in my office." He took a deep breath. "Am I in trouble over this, sirs?" he asked.

"At this point, Colonel, you appear to have been duped, and your emails to General Harding were somehow intercepted and tampered with," Hammond told him. "Major Davis, please go with the Colonel and fetch those letters, taking all precautions against smudging any evidence."

"Yes, sir," the major stated, and the two went out together, leaving the two generals and O'Neill, who had been listening on a speaker phone, to talk.

"Granted I couldn't see his expressions," O'Neill stated, "but he sounded very honest about the whole thing. Nothing set off any alarms with me that says he's lying to us." There was just a momentary pause. "My best guess would be the NID. They do have access to the Pentagon that's needed, and they do have cause to want to disrupt those divisions the SGC as much as possible. Danny has a way with people that has probably left them with fewer opportunities to get back to their artifact smuggling ways."

"Isn't murder a bit of an extreme step for these people, colonel?" Harding asked.

"No sir, not at all. They were more than happy to let an entire planet freeze to death to get a weather control device that they _might_ possibly have been able to use on another planet. The question is, who's behind it? Maybourne has settled out there somewhere, but with the old treason charges against him, he's not likely to show his face on earth again. Simmons is dead, and Kennedy has decided to just stick to working at area 51. Though I'm sure if Kinsey offered them a fair price, he or Samuels would be more than happy to go back to work at being a pain in the ass."

"Colonel," Hammond drawled, a hint of warning in his voice.

"Sorry, Generals, but I call them as I see them. In spite of things he's said in front of our supporters, he's done nothing but go after the SGC ever since he found out about us. I don't know what he's going to try next, if he gets into office as vice-president."

"We'll deal with that problem when it gets here," Hammond assured him. "Jack, how is Daniel doing today? Any word yet on his recovery?"

"It's going to take months, and Fraiser doesn't think he'll be cleared for gate travel again. There was enough damage done to his heart to keep him planet bound for good."

"What about outside help for him?"

"Jacob might be able to reverse the damage completely, but first we have to hear from him. Carter sent word out this morning, and so far, no reply at all, so we've got a waiting game going on. Fraiser says he's resting comfortably, Abby says he's in as good a shape as can be expected, and they both are worried about other things causing trouble. Right now, Daniel is doing nothing but sleep."

"Which means he's doing what he's suppose to be doing for a change," Hammond stated. "All right, Colonel, keep me informed. I'll let you know if we come up with anything further here."

Hanging up the speakerphone, Hammond exchanged concerned looks with Harding. Both men knew that if someone was interfering at this level of events, they had a major problem indeed.

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Arriving at the school cafeteria brought back a feeling of nostalgia to Carter as she and Sarah found a quiet table along one wall of the room, reminding her of her own school days in college and at the Air Force Academy. She settled down to wait as Sarah went to get their order, bringing back a pair of very appetizing Chicken Caesar salads and a couple bottles of water, as well as the promised blue jello.

Sarah worked on her salad as she scanned the room, looking for a handful of people she thought could help Carter and the Stargate program. Finally, she spotted one of them coming in the door. "Ah, there's someone coming in now I think you'll want to talk to," she told Carter, motioning to the door to her left.

"Is that the older lady you were talking about earlier?" Carter asked, taking in the long silver-white hair with a glance, though she couldn't see the woman's face just yet.

"Maggie Mae? No, she's over in one of the study groups on the other side of the cafeteria right now. No, this is someone else, and I think you're really going to like her. And don't let that white hair fool you, she's as young as Daniel was when he joined your project. No, if you want someone for field teams, she's a good candidate. Strong willed, strong of body and very open minded, I've been itching to introduce her to Daniel since I met her," Sarah admitted.

Carter was turning in her seat to get a better look at the woman heading for the counter, when a bit of a fuss at a nearby table caught their attention. A big man, a football player if his size was any indication, was towering over a very scared looking younger woman. The way he was looming over her made him seem even more intimidating, and it was pretty clear what he was trying to do.

She made a move to get up and go interfere, but Sarah caught her arm and gave her a headshake. "It's going to be taken care of," she assured her. "Watch."

The silver haired woman swung around several tables and came back after the young man, scowling. "Derek, are you really so eager to end up in Dean Cornwell's office again for not keeping your hands to yourself?" she asked, her sharp voice showing her annoyance. "Last I heard, your GPA has about hit the point that even your football scholarship isn't going to keep you in school. Especially if there are any more complaints about you trying to get pushy with the ladies."

From the looks and the snickers some of the women in the area were giving the jock, this wasn't an empty threat. The speed in which he turned on her only confirmed this. "Mind your own business, old lady," he sneered. "Marlene wants to go to the party with me tonight, don't you babe?"

Before the younger woman, who couldn't have been over twenty, could respond, the older one stepped up behind her chair, facing the jock down with the calm coolness of someone who knew _exactly_ what they were doing. "Just as April did?" she asked, her voice low, but carrying some weight behind it. "And Judy? What about Mary? Did they all ask to wind up sore in the morning, not remembering how they got back to their rooms? Hmm?"

The entire cafeteria fell silent as the jock's face turned a bright red. "Nothing happened to them while they were with _me_, what they did after the party is their problem," he told her.

"Yes, except that none of them remember leaving the parties you took them to, and none of them remember what happened most of the night. And I've heard tell that the only class you're not failing is chemistry… I wonder why?" she seemed to muse to herself, but everyone could see exactly what she was pointing out. Muttering went up around the room as several young women, all of them very pretty, started putting the allegations together. And several young men with them, scowling, were starting to get to their feet…

Carter came to her own feet as the angry and humiliated man immediately reached out to grab the woman's shoulder to push her back. "Listen, bitch…" he started, but didn't get any further.

In a move as smooth as any Special Ops fighter could pull off, the young woman had his hand off her shoulder, in her own firm grip and was using his own arm as a lever to land him right in the middle of a nearby empty table. The table tipped under his weight, sliding him right into a nearby wall and coming down on top of him. The edge caught him across his groin, leaving him doubled up and groaning in pain while the woman shook her head as she looked down at him, her hands on her hips and a complete look of disgust on her face. "Derek, didn't anyone tell you who my best friends are?" she asked him, and then counted them out on her fingers. "One's a Marine. One's a Navy pilot. And the third is in the Army Corp of Engineers. Did it ever occur to you, or anyone else, that they might have taught me a bit about how to deal with scum like you?" Shaking her head again, she walked away, leaving the jock's friends to help him up and out of there to nurse his pride elsewhere.

There was a smattering of applause from some of the other tables as the young woman headed off to get her lunch.

Carter sat back down again, looking rather impressed with the show. "Not bad at all," she told Sarah. "That's as neat a move as I've seen the Colonel pull off. Who is she?"

"Dr. Teresa Loring," Sarah told her, smiling. "Doctorate in Archeology, Masters in Anthropology, Masters in Linguistics. She's here to turn her Masters in Linguistics into a second doctorate. She's very open to new ideas, and yes, her three best friends are all military."

Carter nodded. "Definitely someone I want to meet," she assured Sarah, and turned her attention back to her own lunch. "You have her in one of your classes?"

Sarah looked quite amused. "She's my student teacher, and will be over to my place tomorrow to help me with those tests I mentioned that needed grading. I'll introduce you then," she promised.

"I look forward to it," Carter assured her, and the conversation turned to other things.

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Having checked on the two other patients in the infirmary, Abby headed for room 4 to be sure that Daniel was settled for the night before she turned in to get some sleep herself. Like most hospitals, the infirmary had a small room with a shower, a table and a pair of cots so that the doctor on duty could get some rest between rounds. From what she'd heard from some of the nurses, it wasn't uncommon for Janet to do two or three back-to-back shifts when there was an emergency on the base, so the little room was always kept ready for someone to take a quick catnap. Janet was suppose to be there now, getting some rest while Abby made sure things were settled before going to the VIP room she'd been assigned two floors above.

After roughly thirty-six hours at the SGC, Abby was trying to figure out how she could wrangle a transfer out of Washington DC to join this crew permanently. Janet was a delight to work with, and she'd never worked with a team that was so well prepared to have almost anything thrown at them. She'd met two other doctors so far, Dr. Brightman and Dr Carmichael, and found both to be good, steady specialists who didn't seem to be afraid to ask for help if they were in over their heads. Dr Warner, the surgeon specialist, was a little slower to catch on to new ideas, but when it came to his work in the OR, Janet had assured her he was in a class all his own.

One of the few gaps in the SGC's medical staff had been a heart specialist, Janet had admitted. She'd tried to explain a few times that they needed one, but the military had insisted that with the entire complex made up of healthy young soldiers, the few exceptions being command staff that weren't on the front lines, there shouldn't be a need for a heart specialist.

Abby had agreed, at first. "What would you need someone like me for?" she asked.

Janet had smiled and made a quick call instead of explaining, and they'd been joined a short time later by the alien she had met the evening before, Teal'c. He came carrying two items, one being a small box, the other an odd, staff-like weapon with what appeared to be weighted ends. He came directly to Janet, bowing his head to her in greeting as he laid both items on an empty bed next to one they had a patient in.

"Thank you, Teal'c, for coming," Janet told him. "Abby, the Goa'uld use two main weapons. Jaffa, like Teal'c here, usually carry staff weapons, and they're quite deadly if you get hit with a head or chest blow. You were asking about Lieutenant Meyers burns? He got them from a staff weapon."

"I got lucky," Meyers told her, his voice low to keep from taking a deep breath. He had some major burns along his ribs and arm on the right side. "This was just from the edge of the blast, the main force went between my side and my arm, or I wouldn't be here."

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed, and showed her how the weapon was activated, the long bulbous head opening up with a crackle of energy for a moment before he shut it off again. "This is a Jaffa's weapon, used by a warrior. Many, however, take pleasure in using the Zat-ni-katel for the more painful but undamaging effect it has on its victims," he explained, and laid the staff down to open the box and remove the strange weapon inside while Janet momentarily left the room. She returned with a badly broken chair a few minutes later as Teal'c showed Abby how to activate the Zat, triggering it to spring from a compact weapon to a more open, Z-shaped gun.

"A Zat is never fired multiple times on the same victim unless you desire to kill the target," Teal'c told her. "The first shot causes great pain, and usually unconsciousness unless the Zat is at its lowest setting. A second shot stops the heart and shuts down the nervous system of the victim, killing them instantly."

"So there's no reason for a third shot then," Abby mused.

Janet smiled and motioned to the broken chair. "Your target," she told Teal'c. "Siler told me it's a lost cause."

Teal'c bowed his head to her, and demonstrated most effectively how a Zat worked. Abby started as the third shot caused the chair to just disappear right before her eyes… Her wide eyes moved from where the chair had been to meet Janet's gaze, and the woman nodded to her, confirming that yes, she'd seen what she'd just seen.

Lieutenant Meyers let out a hoarse chuckle. "I'm just glad that most Jaffa don't carry Zat guns, or I wouldn't be here right now," he told Abby.

Teal'c had answered Abby's questions about the weapon, and she began to understand why Janet had been eager to get a heart specialist on staff. The energy output from a Zat was electrical, and there was always a chance that even one of the low charge hits could cause permanent damage if the right stress was involved. There had been two, single shot fatalities in the past, both soldiers who had been in apparent good health, but later autopsies had shown to have minor heart damage likely caused by recent Zat shots. Damage the medical staff just hadn't known to look for.

Shaking off the memory of the unnerving demonstration, Abby paused at room 4, looking into the dimly lit room for a moment to let her eyes adjust before entering. She paused when Daniel's head turned on the pillow at her approach, then continued to his bedside. "Good evening, Daniel, you should be asleep."

"Just woke up a few minutes ago," he replied softly. "I remember seeing you earlier, but no one told me who you were."

"I'm sorry," she stated, reaching out to pat his hand. "Dr. Abigail Sinclair, but you can just call me Abby, everyone does. I'm a heart specialist, they asked me to come in to consult on your case, and I've been giving Janet a hand with your care."

He gave her a smile, his bright blue eyes echoing the movement of his lips. "Thank you. She worries about me too much some times, and doesn't take care of herself as she should. Jack is just as bad."

"I sent her off to get some rest a few hours ago, so she could take the evening watch, and tossed Jack out of here about an hour back, told him he was _not_ allowed to pull an all-nighter on my shift. He groused, but he left."

Daniel let out a weak chuckle, then coughed a moment. Abby got him some water and held the cup for him to take a few sips to calm it. "Sorry," he told her as he lay back into the pillows again. "My throat is a little too sore to laugh right now. No, Jack is the SGC's biggest, and most stubborn, mother hen. I almost never wake up alone when I end up here in the infirmary."

"Well, either Janet or I will be close by at all times," Abby assured him. "There's only two other patients in right now, so we're able to keep a very close eye on you."

He gave her a level look, tilting his head on the pillow as he asked, "Am I dying again?"

Abby gave him a confused look as she drew over a stool and took a seat. "'Again,'?" she questioned. "You say that as if you've died before."

"I have… Well, kind of. I actually ascended, rather than died. Apparently I didn't like it much, though, as I came back," he told her honestly. "I… don't know what happened to me this time though. Why am I here?"

"The letter you received had been brushed with a contact poison, and it caused a pair of near fatal heart attacks. Janet and I were able to neutralize the poison, but it's left you very, very weak. Daniel, I'm sure Jack told you all of this when you woke up last night. Don't you remember?"

He seemed to consider her words carefully. "Vaguely," he admitted after a bit. "I feel like I'm walking through a fog. Everything is a little bit confusing."

Abby observed the monitors, then did her own check, listening to his heart and lungs with her stethoscope. He started coughing as the cold metal hit his chest, and she quickly called for Janet, concerned as she tried to settle the cough.

To Daniel, it was one of the things he quickly chalked up on his list of 'things not to do', each cough sending tearing pain through his chest as it shook his cracked ribs. He closed his eyes, and was only vaguely aware when others came to help Abby with his care. He protested between coughs as the nasal cannula was taken away, and replaced with a full mask "Let's roll him onto his side, so that cough can do him some good," he heard Janet tell the others, and gentle hands helped him to roll to his left so that he wouldn't tangle the IV lines. A firm cushion was pushed into his arms, and he clutched it against his chest in reflex, breathing a sigh of relief as it helped the pain as he coughed against it. It braced his ribs, so that they couldn't flex so much as he moved.

A cool mist came through the mask, bathing his lower face as Janet encouraged him to take long, deep breathes. He followed her directions, and soon relaxed back into sleep, the cough easing enough to let him rest again.

Janet looked at Abby as she gently ran her hand up and down Daniel's back to sooth him. "Upper respiratory infection?" she asked.

Nodding, Abby sat back down on her stool. "I think so," she agreed. "This could get a lot worse before it gets better, he's getting very, very sick. And I don't think he's out of danger from outside sources yet. If whoever sent that letter finds out he's still alive, who knows _what_ they could try to do."

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Sorry for the delays, folks, but I'm writing this as I go, and between the odd hours of my work schedule and periodic blackouts in my server access, getting this chapter finished took a bit longer than I expected. Don't worry, I'm not planning on deserting the story, there just may be a few long delays getting it done because I can't access the Internet. Hopefully that will be fixed soon. In the meantime, I have started chapter 4, so hopefully it will be out by next week.

Please, help me out by clicking the review button and at least let me know if you think I'm heading in the right direction with this story or not. Feedback helps tell me if you think it's good, or a bunch of BS. Thanks.


	4. Chapter 4

"So, we have a go for the new base then?" O'Neill asked, leaning back in the General's chair. It was far more comfortable than the one in his own office, and since he had to come down here to sign off some paperwork, he figured he'd make his phone calls in comfort. "Sweet. Danny will be thrilled to hear it."

"So I expect," Hammond agreed over the telephone. "Jack, I've been talking to some people here, and it looks like a large section of the NID has decided to take up housekeeping elsewhere. Unfortunately, it looks as though a quite a number of them know about the Stargate Program, and are willing to do _anything_ to keep Earth safe, including breaking the law."

"Why am I not surprised?" O'Neill stated dryly. "So, they finally decided that they were under too much scrutiny trying to hide in the ranks and now they've deserted."

"Looks that way, Jack. The NID is trying to track down their rogue agents, but so far they've had no luck in finding any of them."

"I'm not surprised about that either. They probably still have people on the inside covering their tracks and tipping them off when anyone gets close. Okay, that means we got a whole bunch of people who know about the Stargate program who have decided to take the law into their own hands. This is not a good thing, George. And I can guarantee you, they didn't all leave. Some have stayed behind to keep the others informed if anyone gets close to finding them."

"I know. Jack, I trust you have the base on high alert, but I think that Dr. Jackson is still in a great deal of danger. We think we have some idea what someone is trying to do, but in order to find out who and why, we're going to have to go along with what we think is their plans."

"Meaning?"

"The Pentagon is throwing itself into the idea of adding more scientific staff to the SGC crew. Unfortunately, we aren't going to get full control over who gets chosen to come in, though we will be allowed to do some recruitment through proven contacts, such as Dr. Gardner. They've also decided that if they're going to put in a scientific base offworld, there should be a broader spectrum of scientists in the group, such as the type that usually work with Major Carter. Astrophysics, geology, engineering, computers, they want the whole works covered. That way if something major is discovered, everyone who could possibly deal with it is already there."

"Okay, I can see that, but do they realize how hard it is to get these people to deal with each other? I mean, yah, Carter and Danny work together really well, but they and the people they've worked with are kinda the exceptions to the rule. Most the archeologists and modern scientists I've seen off the base hardly ever even talk to one another; it's like they don't really speak the same lingo. We got a pretty unique group here, George, and bringing in too many new people at once could really throw a wrench into things."

"I know, but the brass feel that the move is a necessary one. The question is, can we make it work?"

"Danny and Carter could do it, but that would mean them taking charge of a main part of the base on a permanent basis. I don't think you want to yank them out of the field to do that, do you General?"

"From your reports, Dr Jackson may no longer be able to work in the field anyway. However, I don't think that his working from an off world base instead of at the mountain would be a real problem, do you?"

"Stress is the biggest danger for him right now, but no, you're probably right. I'll let _you_ argue that idea with the docs, though. I'll warn you, Abby has come to really like Daniel, and is already getting rather protective of him. And you _may_ lose Janet to the new base if you move Danny there, I don't know that she would be willing to be split from him at this point. Though with Cassandra, I couldn't tell you for sure, she could go either way."

"Yes, I've noticed that relationship growing myself. Has Dr Fraiser said anything about turning Dr Jackson's care over to another doctor yet?"

O'Neill chuckled, thinking of how he'd found the pair that morning; Daniel sleeping against Fraiser's shoulder. "No, but I don't think she's going to wait much longer. They've gotten pretty close, and I have the feeling that one of them is going to make a move on the other as soon as he recovers from this." He spotted the woman in question coming up the stairs from the control room below and motioned for her to come join him. "In fact, here comes the doc now. George, I'm switching over to the speaker phone," he warned, clicking things over and hanging up the handset.

Hammond waited until things had clicked in before speaking again. "Do you think that Dr Sinclair would be interested in transferring? Major Davis is considering moving into the Cheyenne area to make his work easier, and flying to Washington as needed. He and Dr Sinclair are close enough that they're currently sharing a house here in DC."

"Advise him to keep the place. He'll probably be flying back and forth enough for it to be worth his while because I'm fairly sure she's going to want to transfer," O'Neill told him as Janet entered the office, shutting the door behind her.

"She who?" the doctor asked, curious about the conversation but not wanting to appear too nosy.

She looked tired, and O'Neill waved her in to take a seat. "Just talking with the General, Doc," he told her, rising to get her a cup of coffee. "We're on speaker now."

"Good, I can tell you both the latest development," she sighed. "Abby and Dr Warner just took Daniel into surgery. The poison has caused clotting in the main arteries around his heart, and they're going to do what they can to clear them out. Prognosis isn't good, though, especially with an upper respiratory infection that might cause further complications. They put him on a ventilator for surgery, of course, but he'll likely be on it for some time afterwards."

"He's beaten the odds before, Janet," O'Neill told her softly as he brought her her coffee. "He'll pull through, he's as stubborn as a damn mule."

"I hope so. Sir, are you considering asking for Dr Sinclair to be transferred to the SGC? If so, please do. My staff all like her, and she and Daniel seem to get along. I feel comfortable turning his care over into her hands. Barring routine exams, I feel that I should no longer be his primary care physician. I've already talked to her, and she admitted she would love to get away from the capital. And with her combat skills, she would serve admirably as a second field doctor."

"I can attest to her fighting skills, George. I trained her myself," O'Neill assured him. "She may have washed out of my black ops classes in the end, but she learned a hell of a lot about combat before I ever met her, and I taught her a lot more."

"If that's the case, then I'll put in the transfer request papers on Monday morning before I leave to come home," Hammond assured them both. "Major Davis is working on trying to trace whoever managed to intercept emails into and out of General Harding's office, but he admits that he probably won't have much luck. Jack, what about the letter itself?"

"Something new there, but not helpful. Seems the paper was made to be poisonous from the start, but we're not sure exactly what it's made _from_. As such, it was obviously handled with gloves, so the only fingerprints on it were Daniel's. Inkjet printer typed, so there's no way to trace what machine it came from. The letter is, as a clue, almost completely worthless unless we can trace who makes poisonous paper. And that's not damn likely."

"What about the writer?" Janet asked. "It comes across as having been written by someone in the Archeological community. Someone with a personal ax to grind with Daniel."

"Which anyone suitably motivated could have written," O'Neill pointed out. "Work yourself into the right mindset, and something like that can come together pretty easily even if you have no idea who the letter is really going to. General, you sure about staying there for the weekend? Given that our opponents can tap email systems, there's no real secure line of communications other than face to face. Phones are even easier to tap. I'm hoping that's something you've already thought of, or we've just given those bastards an earful."

"The entire Pentagon is being checked out this weekend to be sure there's nothing lying around, but I'm in Davis' office and these systems have already been checked for bugs. But all right, Jack, I'll see what needs to be wrapped up, get the request for Dr Sinclair's transfer done and in Major Davis' hands, then head home tomorrow morning. In the meantime, keep everyone out of trouble, and take care of Daniel."

"I consider it to be my personal mission in life, General. Have a good night, sir."

Hammond wished them both a good evening, and O'Neill hung up the speakerphone before turning his attention to Janet. "How are you holding up?" he asked gently, giving her a concerned look. She looked tired, and more than a little stressed out.

"It hasn't been easy trying to see him through this. He's in a lot of pain right now, and his condition is getting worse, and will continue to get worse before it gets any better. Actually, I was just planning on touching bases with you before I head to get a shower and some sleep," she admitted. "The surgery is going to take hours, and Abby told me she'd have me paged once Daniel is out of recovery." She took a deep breath, then let it out. "And in the meantime, I need to talk to you about something that has both Abby and I very, very worried…"

O'Neill leaned forward in the chair, resting his arms on the edge of the desk, one hand casually flipping a pen end over end in his fingers. "I'm all ears, doc," he assured her, and settled down to listen.

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Carter was relieved to find that Sarah was as good as her word when it came to accommodations at her home, which was a spacious two story house about twenty minutes away from the university. The bottom floor consisted of a two-car garage and a large workroom/office for Sarah that held her research books and artifacts she was in the process of cleaning or assembling for further study, as well as the standard laundry and utility rooms. Once the garage door was closed and locked, Sarah led her up stairs to the main body of the house.

Sarah's house was surprisingly rustic, and for the most part, it didn't display much in the way of artifacts, only a few pieces were placed here and there. Rather it seemed to be a place for Sarah to get away from her work, the couches deep and large, and plenty of thick pillows were always within reach. There were two couches there in the living room, set at a right angle to each other with the TV set placed for easy viewing from any seat. The coffee table in front the couches was dark oak and clear glass, four panes set in a square, and was huge, perfect for spreading out student papers for grading. There were a few bookcases in the living room, but the books on them were all for leisure, Carter found. Some historical romances, a few books on arts and crafts, and some little knick-knacks filled the shelves out comfortably without making them seem cluttered.

Sarah led her down the hallway to a series of three bedrooms and a large, generous bath, letting her pick which room she wanted to use from between the two spares. Carter chose the one with a full sized bed, smiling at the comfortable blue and green drapes and matching comforter as she settled her bag onto the luggage rack by the closet. "Very nice house you have here," she told Sarah. "It seems very, very comfortable, almost like a retreat."

"That's the whole idea," Sarah replied, smiling as she leaned against the doorframe. "Unlike Daniel, I prefer to leave my work at work, and rest and relax at home. When something does come up that requires me to do work here, it stays downstairs where it belongs. Now, feel free to get settled in and wash up if you feel the need, I'll go see what I have in icebox to fix for supper."

Dinner that night was grilled salmon filets and wild rice pilaf and Carter found that Sarah was an absolutely marvelous cook. After dinner, they retreated into the living room and, over chocolate mousse, passed a few hours catching up on things. They finally realized how late it was when the grandfather clock near the hallway chimed midnight, indicating that it was probably a good time to go to bed since they had to get up early in the morning to get things done.

The night was restful for both women, and Carter called the base in the morning, asking about Daniel's condition, then filling O'Neill in on where she was at and why. "I'm hoping that I can find a couple dozen good people here. The one I'm going to meet later this morning is in good form for an SG team, I think. She definitely has the fighting moves to be on one. And she shares a lot of the same educational experience that Daniel has, she's just not quite as advanced in them as he was when he joined the program."

"Where did she pick up the fighting skills?" O'Neill asked, curious.

"What I heard, she's got three close friends who are all military, Marine, Navy pilot and Army Corp of Engineers. At least, that's what she told the bully she took down yesterday in the cafeteria."

"Get names, Carter, and any other information you can on those guys. We just got clearance from the Joint Chiefs to pull staff from any branch of the military that we can find suitable people in. We can bring them in from Army, Navy or even the Coast Guard if we have to."

"Damn. How many people are we going to be able to pick up?" she asked, very, very surprised to hear this piece of good news.

"We got clearance for close to a hundred, if we feel we need them, and if we can find that many."

"Double damn. Okay, I'll talk to Dr Loring, and get back to you. I have a secured laptop with me, and I'll try to get an uplink to send data directly to the SGC."

"I'll tell Walter to keep an eye out for your link," he assured her, then let her go.

Dressed in a light top and wrap around skirt, Carter went out to meet up with her hostess in the kitchen, where Sarah was putting the finishing touches on some waffles, stacking them on a plate as she took them out of the waffle iron. "We've got fresh strawberries, blueberries and peaches to go with these, and there's whipped cream in the door of the icebox if you want it," she told Carter with a smile. "Coffee is brewing right now, or there's tea water hot on the stove. Teresa should be here in a few minutes; she's picking up salad fixings for the three of us for lunch."

"Sounds good," Carter assured her, getting one of the large, hot waffles and adding strawberries and peaches to it, but skipping the whipped cream. She took a seat at the nearby dining room table, she figured that Sarah probably didn't appreciate food in the living room with her cream colored rug. "I just got off the phone with the Colonel. Daniel went through surgery last night to try to clear some things up around his heart. The poison he'd been hit with has thickened up his blood, and they're concerned about clotting causing a third attack or even a stroke."

"How bad is it?" Sarah questioned.

"They had to leave him on the ventilator after surgery, and the Colonel says he's very, very weak. They're still waiting to hear from the Tok'ra. I'm hoping that my message got through to my dad."

"I remember meeting your father. He seemed a very sweet man," Sarah stated with a small smile of remembrance. "Selmak was very kind."

Carter paused mid bite, her eyes growing a little wide as she slowly chewed her waffle, then swallowed. "My father has his moments, but I don't think anyone has ever called him _sweet _before. He's mellowed, though, probably thanks to Selmac."

"Yes, well, I redefined a few terms while I was gone those three years," Sarah told her, turning off the waffle iron. "Believe me, compared to some people I recall running into, he was very sweet. Actually, I think part of the reason I liked him was that I was mostly talking to Jacob, not Selmak."

"True. Dad prefers to be in control and Selmak lets him have it most of the time, and is willing to be just a passenger," Carter told her. "We've noticed that with most of the Tok'ra we run into these days, we're mostly talking to the symbiote, not the host."

The doorbell interrupted any further talk and Sarah went to answer it, returning a moment later with Dr Loring following her, a bag in hand while the younger woman carried two more. The younger woman didn't seem to notice Carter right off as she swung her bags up onto the counter, still chattering away.

"…at any rate, John says his platoon is heading out for Iraq in three days, so he wasn't going to be able to call me for a while. Kevin's ship is still stationed in the Mediterranean and they're not due back for another three months. That leaves just Denise and I stateside. Fortunately, her ACE team isn't slotted to go overseas, they came back from there just before she was transferred in."

"ACE?" Sarah asked, a bit confused by the letters.

"Army Corp of Engineers," Carter supplied, smiling as Teresa gave her a most curious look. "Dr Sam Carter, Major, USAF," she said, wiping off her hands on a napkin, then offering her right one in greeting.

Teresa took it with a smile. "Dr Teresa Loring, it's a pleasure to meet you, Major," she told Carter. "What's your field?"

"Call me Sam, and I'm a theoretical Astrophysicist." Carter explained. "I work out of Cheyenne Mountain."

"Well, that's one field they don't need overseas," Teresa mused. "Must be nice knowing they're not going to send you over to the Middle East."

"Actually, I logged in plenty of flight time during Desert Storm," Carter told her. "I'm fully rated to fly about a half dozen of the aircraft we have over there right now, as well as a few that we don't."

Sarah finished empting the bags, putting away the lettuce, shredded cheese and other salad fixings for later, and putting a beautiful lemon pepper rotisserie chicken in the oven to keep it warm until lunch time. "Major Carter works with your idol, Daniel Jackson," she told Teresa, amused when the woman, who had been fixing her own waffle, paused and blinked in shocked surprise.

"Why would the military want to hire an archeologist to work in Colorado?" she asked slowly, surprise giving way to curiosity. "I applied to work for the Army to help deal with dig sites over in Iraq, but they turned me down."

"Daniel was hired as a translator right after that last lecture," Carter answered. "He does a lot of translating work even now, though his duties have expanded far past that."

"I've been thinking about hiring on as a translator for the military," Teresa mused as she finished making her breakfast and joined the pair at the table, bringing the coffee pot with her. She poured for herself and Carter, while Sarah fixed her own tea. "I do speak several middle eastern dialects."

"So are you still interested in joining the military?" Carter asked, trying not to sound to eager to hear an affirmative answer.

"I've been thinking about it. Army, most likely, like my friend Denise. She's currently serving up in Anchorage Alaska at their main office. She's got a Masters in Engineering, with bachelor degrees in languages and Archeology. Makes it handy when you're working on some building project and stumble across a two hundred year old camp site."

Carter chuckled. "She like Alaska?" she asked.

"Some, but says the winters are just too damn long. There's that sixty or so days of nighttime in the winter that's a real pain. The sun goes down the end of November and doesn't come up again until the beginning of February. And, of course, that's when they're doing all their planning for the next year's projects, so she can't even take leave to come visit and get some sunshine."

Carter thought about her own cover story and found a way to sympathize. "I do deep space radar telemetry, so you can guess what kinds of hours I keep," she told Teresa. "I sleep most the day, and work under a mountain all night."

Teresa nodded, her eyes narrowing a bit, though, as her look turned suspicious. "Why do you need a translator to work on deep space telemetry?" she questioned.

"We work with a lot of other countries, and some times it's easier for us to get Daniel in to talk to them than it is to miss something because someone in Russia doesn't have a good grasp of technical English," Carter explained. "He also does some work for the CIA doing translations from messages intercepted in the Middle East. I was rather surprised to find out that English is actually his _third _native language, he learned it, Egyptian and Arabic all at the same time."

"Really? I missed that somehow when I was checking out information on him," Teresa mused, distracted for the moment.

"Daniel was born in Cairo, Egypt," Sarah supplied. "He didn't move to the states until he was older…"

"He was eight," Carter added. "It was only days later that his parents were killed, and he ended up on his own when his grandfather didn't take him in. He's told some very eye-opening horror stories about being in the foster care system."

"He's not the only one with those. If Denise, Kevin and I hadn't been together, I don't think any of us would have survived the first couple of years in foster care," Teresa murmured.

"You were in the system too?" Carter asked.

"Three of us were," she admitted. "We all ended up fostered together with John's parents. After that, things took a turn for the better for us, but I knew a lot of kids who were treated as little more than slaves by their foster parents, adults who were more interested in getting government money and having someone to keep their house clean for them."

"Daniel told me once he had one family try to get their hands on his school grant money. Fortunately they never succeeded," Sarah told them. "Teresa, Sam is going to help you with the tests this afternoon, so that I can concentrate on the papers from my third class."

"Not a problem," Teresa assured her, and they all set about finishing breakfast before the morning's work began.

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Seated at Major Davis' desk at the Pentagon, General Hammond was not a happy man at all. "So, we know now who managed to get those letters switched around in Colonel Cartwright's office, but someone else got to him before we did," he mused. "Is his residence being searched for any further clues?" he asked Davis.

"I sent teams in to do that before I called you in, Sir. The place was thoroughly trashed. If there _was_ any evidence there, it's long gone now, whoever did the search was very, very careful to make sure they got everything out of there."

"Which means we have a rogue NID officer now dead, most likely by the hands of his fellow rogues," Hammond mused, then let out a deep sigh. "So at this point we're at a complete dead end to get to the bottom of this mess."

"I'm afraid so, General. I would say that the man acted without orders, or else they decided he'd bungled his orders to the point that they couldn't afford to keep him around as a risk letting him get caught. Or else he was expendable to begin with, which could also be the case. According to NID files, he didn't have access to information on the SGC, so it's possible he didn't have any idea what those letters were that he exchanged out of the Colonel's office and took to the mailroom."

"So, that's turned out to be a literal dead end. What about the emails?"

"I've tried to trace them, sir, but no luck there either. Perhaps Major Carter might have better luck, but I doubt it. Experience has shown that she and I have similar skill levels with computers."

"Which leaves us with only the option of checking people as they join up, and try to find anyone who may be compromised." Leaning back in his chair, crossed his arms, shaking his head in frustration. "This isn't how I hoped this would go. But the NID are to damn smart to let us catch them this early in the game. All right, Major Carter is going to start sending you information on people very soon, possibly as early as this afternoon. Screen them as best you can, and take your time at it. I want good people, the best we can get, but I want as little trouble as possible."

"Yes, sir. Are you heading home this evening?"

"I wouldn't mind it. Is there a flight that I could catch out of here tonight?" Hammond asked. "Nothing against your place, son, but I'd like to sleep in my own place."

"Understandable. A flight heading to California leaves in four hours, sir. I can have them make a brief stop at Peterson to let you off without to much trouble."

"That would be just fine, and thank you, Major," Hammond told him, nodding as he rose. "You make those arrangements, while I fill out the transfer request for Dr Sinclair, and then I'll just need to collect my bag on the way to the airport."

"I'm glad Abby was agreeable to moving," Davis admitted, smiling. "She hates dealing with politicians."

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Once they were done with breakfast, the trio of ladies headed into the living room, Sarah curling up on the couch with a stack of reports to read while Teresa and Carter settled on thick cushions on the floor to easily work at the coffee table. The young woman showed Carter the key to the tests she was going to be grading. "You got an easy one, these are all multiple choice or true/false questions," she stated with a grin, handing everything over. "The ones I'm grading have some written questions, but it's material I'm familiar with so I don't have to disturb Sarah for answers."

Carter agreed and set about following the key, going through things fairly quickly to mark incorrect answer by marking the correct selection with a red pen. By counting the red marks, she was able to score each test with ease and finished up the second class' tests about the time that Teresa finished with the class she had been dealing with. Teresa took the tests with a smile, clamped the different classes into stacks, and set them aside. "So, what's it like working with Dr Jackson?" she asked.

"It's never boring," Carter assured her, reaching for the bag on the couch behind her and pulling out her computer. It only took her a few minutes to set things up while Teresa finished putting the tests away. "He has a way of looking at things that just makes you step back and go 'whoa, why didn't I notice that?'," she explained. "Maybe you'll get to meet him some time, but I'd like to know more about yourself. What are your plans when you get out of school?"

"Hopefully find a dig to head out on, but I don't know how successful I'm going to be given the unrest over in the Middle East. That's why I was considering the military, since linguistics is my back-up plan for a job. When it comes to Middle Eastern languages, the military is among the best and safest employer."

Nodding in agreement, Carter pulled out some papers from her bag and laid them in front of Teresa. "Good. Start filling those out. Oh, and I need some references, those friends of yours who are all military would be good ones. I just need to know their names, ranks and where to find them."

Teresa looked the application over. "I'm not sure I'd like working under a mountain," she admitted, considering the application carefully. "Even if it is working with Dr Jackson."

Carter chuckled, and decided to come clean. There was something about this lady she really liked, and she wanted to get her onto their team if she could. "Teresa, that's a cover story," she admitted. "Our real work has a lot to do with deep space, but not in the way that anyone would think of. It's also classified so deeply that the classification is classified. We answer directly to the President and the Joint Chiefs, no one lower."

Sarah looked up from her papers, giving her curious student a rather haunted look. "I know exactly what kind of work Daniel and Sam do, Teresa, and while it's extremely dangerous, it's also work you could be very, very good at. Trust me in this, I had a reason for bringing you here today, and grading papers is only the beginning of it."

Looking thoughtfully from one woman to the other for a long moment, Teresa quickly set about filling in the information Carter needed while answering her questions about her friends. It didn't take long for Carter to find the files for all three of them, and upload their information to the SGC to be considered for the program.

Once Teresa had finished filling out the application, Carter entered everything into the computer to send it to Walter. It wasn't long before she had a confirmation back that all the information had been sent on to Major Davis to be checked out.

She sat back with a sigh, stretching her arms out in front of her and locking her hands to get the kinks out. "When are you graduating, anyway?" she asked.

"Two months," Teresa told her, stretching as well.

"Next week," Sarah corrected without looking up from her paperwork. "You just need to take your finals, you're ahead in your work. I could arrange for you to have them Monday if you think you're ready for them."

"What?" Teresa asked, turning around to give Sarah a startled look that brought a chuckle out of Carter. "I didn't know that was possible."

"Oh, yes," Sarah assured her. "Arranging it would be no problem at all. Now, shall we head back to the kitchen and have some lunch?" she asked, laying the papers aside.

Rising from their cushions on the floor, Carter and Teresa followed her back to the kitchen, where they set about fixing their lunch. The fresh salad greens were perfect, and with slices of hot chicken, shredded cheese, tomatoes and Caesar dressing, it made a wonderful, filling lunch for three calorie watching women.

Settling down again at the dinning room table, Carter watched as Sarah poured all three of them iced lemon tea. "Teresa, what got you into archeology?" she asked.

"Actually, I started out with an interest in ancient languages that no one else would understand," Teresa explained. "That led to an interest of the people and culture behind those languages." She took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. "My mother died when I was born. My father didn't want to lose me, but he also didn't want to raise a child alone and went looking for a new wife. He found one when I was about three, and she was the wicked stepmother from hell. She was two months pregnant when they got married, but she 'lost' the baby right after the wedding. I say it that way because I don't think she was really pregnant to begin with, she was just using that to get him to the altar.

"Six months after the wedding, dad went out fishing with his new wife and some of her 'fine' friends. I never saw him again, they brought back a waterlogged body with an alcohol level well over the limit, said he got drunk, fell overboard and drowned. Of course, the fact he was an Olympic level swimmer and had never touch alcohol didn't come up in the investigation until a good many years later. By then she'd emptied the accounts, sold off everything and dumped me in the worse god-forsaken orphanage in southern California. And she'd completely disappeared into Mexico somewhere with all the money.

"By then I was in the system and an emotional wreck. It didn't help that the first two foster care parents I was given to were as bad as my stepmother and were just after the money. The second one managed to hide what they were doing until I was six and the case workers realized I wasn't in school. When they came to check on me, they found me locked in a back bedroom closet, in my underwear, and so thin you could see every rib. And I'm not exaggerating, I've seen the pictures they took."

Carter shook her head. "People like that need to spend some time in the same situation to teach them a lesson. Or be shot. Personally, having seen what that kind of abuse did to Daniel, I favor the wasting of a bullet myself…"

Teresa nodded. "After being pulled out of the second home, I spent time in an orphanage and met Kevin and Denise. Unfortunately, some bad apples wind up working in those places as well and we ended up bonding for protection from a couple of abusive care-givers. Unfortunately, when we tried to talk to the social workers about what was happening, they would hush us up with threatening looks when no one was looking and come up with carefully arranged cover stories.

"The good thing was that when I finally got into school, they began to realize how bright I was when I was advanced from kindergarten to the first grade, thus catching up to my age level in one year. Kevin and Denise were as equally smart, and we all worked together on our homework, so they were advanced into a special class for 'gifted' students with me by the end of the year."

"I can see a problem with this. From what I've heard, most people don't want the hassles of dealing with a 'gifted' youngster that's probably smarter than they are," Carter speculated, remembering more information she'd gradually gotten out of Daniel over the years. "How come you were never adopted?"

"With my 'stepmother' out there somewhere, they couldn't put me up for adoption, she might come back and want me again, and that would be a major mess. She _neglected_ to sign the paperwork that would let the system try to find me a permanent home. So I was stuck in the foster care system.

"Then, I finally hit a bit of good luck, that first summer in the orphanage. There were a couple of new workers hired on, they were philippino, and they liked to talk to each other in their own language. That's when we found out that all three of us had a knack for languages. That was also about the time that one of the men working there tried to go after Denise, and when she was over heard warning us away from the him, he cornered us and threatened to kill us if she didn't shut up. We got away from him, but that left us feeling there was no one at all we could trust there until these new ladies came in. We started to pick up on their language pretty quick and began conversing with them in it. By the time school started up again we were fluent enough to tell them what was going on and what other workers were trying to do to the kids. And they couldn't shut us up because they had no idea what we were saying and the women insisted we were only 'being polite'."

"I hope they went to the authorities," Sarah put in between bites.

"They did, and a major sweep and background check was done on all the people working at the place. Unfortunately, that wound up closing the orphanage down and nearly split the three of us up again anyway. If it hadn't been for some publicity about the whole thing, we may never have seen each other again. As it was, a whole new group of people started applying to become foster parents, and local families picked up a lot of the children. That's when we met John and his parents… And that was the best piece of good luck we could ask for.

"John Heasley was in our special advancement classes and he told his parents about us. His family had just moved into a big house and had plenty of room, and he was able to talk them into taking all three of us."

"You got damn lucky," Carter stated after taking a sip of her iced tea.

"Yes, we were, but we didn't believe that for a while. We'd been hurt, and scared, and it took us some time to really start trusting the Heasleys. In the meantime, we wanted to find a way that we could pass messages to each other and communicate without anyone understanding us. I found a book on Egyptian Hieroglyphs in the library, and we set out learning the language. We got pretty good at it, really, and even after we learned to trust, it was still our own 'private language' for leaving each other messages. We taught it to John as well, and the interest grew from there to other very old languages. Not all of us speak the same languages, though, we kind of spread out our interests. We can cover about a dozen or so, ancient and modern, between us.

"We started attracting attention at school almost immediately. A few of our teachers, realizing that we were soaking up everything they could teach us faster than they'd ever seen, started working with us on getting scholarships and grants together to go on to college. We were fourteen when we passed high school equivalency and moved onto the college campuses for schooling instead. A few of our new peers took exception to being shown up by a group of 'children', but they got over it. Especially since you couldn't deal with one of us alone, we all worked together as a group. Now, our interests diverged at that point, but we still have some overlap. Languages are the big one. But John gained an interest in Geology, while Kevin got caught up in computers and aviation tech. Denise loved finding out how things work and went into mechanical engineering, while I headed for Archeology and Anthropology. Again, there's overlap. Denise has a bachelors degree in archeology, while John has a doctorate in Anthropology."

"So, you guys are used to being a team then," Carter mused, considering the story carefully. If they could pull them all in, it sounded as if, with some experience offworld under their belt, they'd have a ready made SG team… "Tell me more about your friends," she asked.

Teresa was more than happy to do so, and the more she heard, the more Carter knew they had to have these four at the mountain. Given the proper teaching and experience, their possibilities as a first contact team was incredible

There was a beep from Carter's computer a few hours later, and she returned to the living room to read the message that had just been forwarded to her. "Interesting. They've already done a first level background check on you. One of your friends is doing some high security work and they always check out close friends and family as well," she stated, smiling as she looked up to study the surprised young woman. She gave Teresa an amused look. "I need to get your fingerprints and send them in, and they'll have to do a more in-depth interview and credit check before you'll be accepted, possibly even a polygraph test, but if you pass all of that, it says here that you've got a job."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

O'Neill met with several of the SG team leaders, nodding to the group of four men. "Pierce, Reynolds, Harper, Dixon… Got a job for the four of you, and we need things done fast, which is why we're sinking so many people into this. You all have full teams ready to go out, plus we have about another dozen from five other teams who are willing to go while they have members down with one thing or another. We got clearance from the Pentagon to start building the science base, and I want to get it started as soon as possible. Now, we have a good start at P7H-696, there's a nearby river that the engineers believe might be damable for an alternate power supply, and there's a huge cave complex a quarter mile from the gate that could be turned into quarters and storage facilities. In particular I want you guys to get in there, and get a medical MASH-style unit set up. Harper, you and Dixon have done medical emergencies before, so you two will be in charge of making sure that things are up and running ASAP. Dr. Carmichael will go with a pair of nurses to take care of the medical equipment we're sending over and get everything set up. Find a protected area to set up the initial camp near the caves, and there's no limit on the size other than we don't want to leave any major evidence of the camp when you get finished."

"We're talking a long term camp then?" Dixon asked. He was the oldest of the four, and had been running covert ops for nearly as long as O'Neill had. "A big one?"

"Yep. Let people spread out, everyone can take their own two-man tent if they want, or pair up in a four man. You'll have big tents for the medical, and for general shelter for cooking and the likes. MREs for backup meals, but you'll primarily want to have a full kitchen there. Pierce, I know your team helped set up the first Alpha site, so you know the kind of layout we're going to need. However, I don't want the area cleared like the Alpha site was, leave everything as natural as possible. Understood?"

Pierce nodded, while the others all looked curious. "What's going on, Jack?" Dixon asked. "Sounds like you're moving quite a group in and fast. What's the rush?"

"The NID has had a lot of its personnel go rogue on them," O'Neill stated. "People who all know about the Stargate, and who seem to feel that Earth is being compromised by our actions. We know who's disappeared, but we don't know who they still have in the ranks, forming a fifth column to feed them information and help them steal any alien tech. Now, we're pretty sure that these guys are also behind the attack on Daniel, an attack that damn near succeeded in killing him. They didn't make it, Daniel was lucky and Harper and his team got him back fast. But we don't know that what they did won't kill him in the end."

"How bad is his condition, Sir?" Harper asked. He and Daniel were about the same age, and got on quite well.

"He had those two heart attacks and survived them, but there's a possibility of a third at any time. Doc says his lungs are being compromised, and that could kill him too. Basically, it doesn't look good." He paused, looking down at the drawings in front of him on the table. "This base was his dream, boys, he picked out the location and he wrote up the report that got us the permission and funds to make it. If we're going to loose him, I want him to at least know the work's been started and will be carried out. Understood?"

There were nods and murmurs of agreement as the men headed off to get things together for the earliest departure possible. They had a lot of work to do.

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Major General Jacob Carter was glaring, he knew it, but he hated being _ordered _anywhere, something his Tok'ra symbiote, Selmak, understood all too well. As she was considered to be 'oldest and wisest', she was as unused to being summoned as her host was. _Any clue what's going on?_ Jacob asked her as yet another guilty looking Tok'ra scurried into a side hall before they reached him. _A lot of people are doing their damnest to get out of our way as fast as they can. And no one is willing to look me in the face._

_:I have noticed this:_ Selmak admitted, and he could easily sense her unease. _:Whatever is happening, most everyone knows about it but us, and from their reaction, they're not expecting us to be happy about it. I don't like this at all.:_

Jacob agreed, he had a very bad feeling about what was going on as he headed for the council room. When he arrived there, it was to find the entire council waiting, and that made him even less happy as he glared at the group. "What's going on here?" he demanded,

"**_We need to speak with Selmak, not with you, Jacob,"_** stated Per'sus, his voice echoing the double tones that meant the symbiote was talking.

Jacob hesitated, then bowed his head, letting Selmak take control while he took the 'back seat', listening in on the conversation without being able to physically react to it. **_"What is going on here?"_** Selmak demanded. **_"Everyone we have seen since we arrived at the base has been unwilling to even look at us in the face, and is acting unusually guilty. Jacob and I are both getting heartily tired of being left out of the loop, as he says. In the last several Tau'ri months, you have done all you can to keep us out of any council meetings, but you didn't hesitate to summon us here as soon as we arrive through the Stargate today. A suspicious move, to say the least."_**

"**_Being with the Tau'ri has left you suspicious and temperamental, Selmak,"_** Per'sus noted. **_"You never used to be so short with us before you blended with your current host."_**

"**_No, it has just been several hundred years since I had a host willing to support my telling you you're a group of idiots. Jacob is the most attentive host I've ever had, and what I miss of your stupidity, he catches. Now, what is going on here?" _**she asked, looking around the room. She recognized everyone there, except for a very young woman sitting between Anise and Garshaw on the far side of the table. **_"Garshaw?"_**

The tall, elegant woman hesitated a moment, then spoke. **_"The council believes that it for the best interest of the Tok'ra that you take a different host, Selmak, and let Jacob return to Earth to rejoin his own people."_**

Selmak could feel Jacob's anger at this announcement. **_"In other words, you feel that Jacob is a Tau'ri spy and you want me to get rid of him?"_** she questioned. **_"You're quite wrong, of course. About a good many things, it seems, if you think I would desert Jacob at your whim. We have no desire at all, either of us, to be parted."_**

Anise motioned to the young woman beside her. **_"This is Marana, and she has come to be your new host, Selmak. You have always preferred to blend with a woman, and she is both young and strong. Are you sure you don't wish to reconsider?"_**

"**_Quite sure," _**Selmak told the council, looking from person to person around the room and noting that while Garshaw didn't seem too surprised, or disappointed, everyone else was. **_"I believe it is time for this charade to end," _**she told them.**_ "It's quite obvious to both Jacob and myself that we are no longer welcome on the council, so we will be leaving. If you wish to talk to me, I'm quite sure you know where to find me."_**

"**_You would turn your back on your own people, Selmak?" _** Per'sus demanded, his tone indicating that he would never have expected this reaction.

"**_You have already turned your back on Jacob and I,"_** Selmak pointed out. **_"As Jacob would say, you can take your idea and go for a long walk off a short pier." _**Giving them one last glare he turned and stalked out of the council chamber, heading back to the tucked away tiny chamber they kept their few things in when they were on the base. _:Well, Jacob, it seemed you were right when you told me the last time we were here that things were getting worse between ourselves and the council.:_

_Unfortunately,_ Jacob agreed, his tone soft with remorse. _Sel, I'm sorry…_

_:It's not your fault they're scared.: _ Selmak pointed out gently. _:Of what though, I'm not quite sure.:_

"**_Selmak? Jacob?"_** came a call from down the hallway behind them as they entered the chamber, Selmak letting Jacob take control of his body to begin packing up their few belongings.

"We're here, Malek," Jacob called back, gathering up his possessions and tucking them into the rucksack he'd brought back on one of his early trips from earth. The Tok'ra were constantly on the move, so it didn't make sense to have a lot of possessions, and he kept anything of value that he might want back at the SGC or with his daughter.

The Tok'ra base commander joined them, leaning against the doorway of the little room. **_"You're remarkably calm, given what the Council was proposing,"_** he noticed, then his eyes widened a bit as Jacob straightened, slipping on the armband that held his GDO. **_"You're going back to Earth,"_** he stated. **_"Both of you?"_**

"You expect me to stick around and let them pull Selmak out of my head by force?" Jacob pointed out wryly, tucking away his second Tok'ra uniform and zipping up the small bag. "We're safer heading home, it's clear they don't trust either of us any more around here."

Malek nodded in agreement. **_"They're scared,"_** he told them. **_"Scared at how fast and efficiently the SGC is at killing off the System Lords. Many of them worry that when they're done getting rid of the Goa'uld, they'll start trying to kill off the Tok'ra as well."_**

"And you?" Jacob asked, watching his expression carefully.

"**_I remember well the lessons we learned at the hands and knife of the Ashrak,"_** Malek stated. **_"We are all brothers and sisters in the fight against the Goa'uld. I will not raise my hand against them. Nor will I try to keep you from returning to them. That's why I'm here, they do not plan for the pair of you to leave through the gate together."_**

"Well, then, we'd best get going before they get too much in place to stop us," Jacob told him, heading for the door out.

It was a long, rather harrowing chase, given that neither side wanted to hurt the other. But in the end, Jacob and Selmak, with Malek's aid, won out and made it to the gate, stunning the guards to keep them from interfering. Jacob dialed in the gate address for earth, then took off his GDO and keyed in his personal code. In moments he had the green light, pausing only to clasp arms with Malek in a silent goodbye before he turned and took the single, giant step home…


	5. Chapter 5

"Okay, so what the hell is the delay?" Colonel Anthony Roland demanded, climbing up the stairs to join his fellow Marine colonels at the doorway to the troop ship they were escorting back to California. There they would pick up the second half of a load of Marines due to head to the front lines in Iraq so that another battalion could come home for some leave. "Granted I'm the last one here, but why isn't this plane ready to fly?"

"We'll be taking a short detour, sir, to drop off a spare passenger in Colorado," the pilot replied. "Order just came through about an hour ago, sir. We'll be making a fast stop at Peterson Base."

"There goes the poker game," one of the other marines growled, brushing his hand back through his short cut gray hair. "Nothing like having a damn brass on board to ruin a four hour flight."

Two of the others agreed, but the third marine, a man much younger than any of the others, looked more curious. In spite of their near equal rank, he was at least a decade younger than the youngest of the entire group. "Jim, they tell you who was coming?" Lieutenant Colonel Lou Ferretti asked the pilot, leaning against the door frame to take the strain off his bad leg. "I know a lot of the brass in Colorado Springs."

The pilot shook his head, his short blond hair rather shocking against his dark tan skin. He'd just gotten back off of a two week vacation, and the tan hadn't started to fade yet, and neither had his good humor. "Just someone from the Mountain, was what I was told," he stated with a grin. "We're making a short stop at Peterson to let him off, shouldn't add more than a half hour to the flight, tops, since we'll have to pick up some fuel before we leave."

"Wonder if it's the General?" Ferretti half mused to himself. "Must be, coming from the mountain, unless it's the upper base. The Colonel would be flying himself home."

"Who are you talking about, Ferretti?" one of the other men asked, his look changing from annoyance to curiosity. "Which Colonel?"

"I worked a few years with Jack O'Neill, enough to know that he tends to do his own flying," Ferretti explained as he spotted a car heading out to meet them. "Letting other pilots fly tends to make him rather nervous." He nodded towards the approaching vehicle. "Well, we'll soon see, here they come."

The military limo pulled up near the stairs to the plane, and two airmen got out of the front, one turning to open the door while the second went around to get a bag from the trunk. Ferretti grinned at the heavy set man who got out of the back seat, the evening sun adding more pink to his bald head. "Evening, General. Glad you could join us," he called as the second airman carried the bag up the stairs.

Hammond traded salutes with the group up at the plane's door, pausing to let the airman come back down the stairs before he headed up to board the plane. He nodded to the group, but clasped forearms Jaffa-style with Ferretti with a smile. "Lieutenant Colonel Ferretti, it's good to see you again. It's been a few years since I last heard from you. You should keep in touch better."

"Spent a year hoping the leg would heal up enough to come back to work for you, sir, but I guess that just wasn't meant to be," the younger man admitted as they all turned inside and the pilots headed to start the engines up. He and Hammond took seats near the front of the planewith it's more comfortable seating, while the other officers took seats in the regular area, settling about half way back in the plane and obviously still hoping to have their card game. Feretti was more than happy to leave them to it, and knew that Hammond wouldn't care; the betting pool at the SGC was legendairy. "The limp's permanent, but with a special compensation from the Pentagon, not bad enough to take me out of the military," he continued as they both got settled into the 'first class' area. "I've been working with new recruits since I got done with the PT, with special orders to keep an eye out for anyone that might be useful to your project."

"We always need good people," Hammond agreed. "Especially in the science fields. Do you have anyonein mindto send on to us at this point?"

"Two or three. I heard about you guys losing Dr Jackson a couple years back. That had to have been a major blow."

"Oh, so you hadn't heard about his return then?" Hammond asked, his eyebrows arching as he smiledwith ammusement. "He's up to three canceled death certificates now."

"What?" Ferretti exclaimed, catching the other men's attention in therear area, then lowered his voice again as the plane started taxiing around for take off. "The colonel told me what happened with that bomb mishap, it sounded pretty damn final to me. And Jack told me he was gone for good; that he wasn't exactly dead, but as good as and definitely gone."

"There's a quote I think Mark Twain made that is appropriate for Dr Jackson," Hammond told him with a chuckle, his own voice a soft murmur. "He left yes, but apparently the lifestyle didn't appeal. They found him, amnesiac, about eight months ago. He's recovered most of his memory at this point, except for the time he was gone. He gets some odd flashes through meditating but for the most part, that part of his past is closed off to him. It's frustrating for him, to say the least."

Ferretti nodded in agreement, remembering Jackson's insatiable curiosity very, very well. The conversation came to a short stop as the plane revved up to start it's take off run, but resumed once it was up in the air. "So, you're looking for assistants for him now? For at the base, or on the teams?"

"Both," Hammond replied. "We've lost a lot of good people the last year or two. We just discovered that only twenty-seven people are handling those three divisions, and I suspect they're working themselves into the ground. We need people and need them ASAP. But we need the _right_ people, people who are open minded enough not to give Dr Jackson trouble, but good enough to actually be of some help."

Ferretti nodded. "I know of one you would definitely want, but you need to grab him fast, he's heading for Iraq in two days. Anthropologist, linguist and geologist, I know he reads and writes ancient Egyptian, I've seen him write letters to his friends and he does them in hieroglyphs. His clearance is decent, and I've definitely come to trust his judgment and his good sense out in the field. He would need some experience before turning him loose completely, but I'm sure he'd do well on an SG field team. In fact, his file and two others should be on Davis' desk at the Pentagon about now."

"How does he do dealing with non-Marines and civilians?" Hammond asked.

"Just fine. He's got three good friends, one's a civilian Archeologist, the second's a navy pilot and the third's in the Army branch of the USACE. I don't know their names, or where they're stationed, but I do know he's one of the boys we're picking up in the morning." Drawing out a pad of paper from his breast pocket, he wrote down a name and unit number, then handed it over to Hammond. "I think he'd do just fine with you, sir, and his skills would wind up unappreciated and wasted in Iraq."

"You still going on about Heasley, Ferretti?" demanded an irate voice from behind them. "General Arrington already told you he was going to the front lines same as everyone else. We need those men in Iraq and Afghanistan."

Ferretti turned to look at the man in the aisle beside him, scowling a bit in irritation at the interruption. "Major General George Hammond, may I introduce you to Colonel Anthony Roland, he's senior officer for this trip. Colonel, General Hammond was my CO at my last posting until injury forced me out."

Roland narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the younger Lieutenant Colonel. "An injury none of us have ever seen, except that convenient limp you got, Ferretti. And I have yet to hear a plausible story as to how you got that 'injury' to begin with."

"Classified, Colonel. And you don't have the clearance or the need to know," Hammond told him, his voice rather sharp to warn the man off. "From your attitude, I would guess you think the Lieutenant Colonel is faking his injury. As his former CO, I know he's damn lucky to have kept his lower leg, our CMO was afraid she was going to have to amputate the limb at the knee. Now, I don't suppose that you have any reason to suspect that I'm telling you stories, do you Marine? If you do, I'd like to hear them."

The man came to stiff attention, realizing that he'd just been reprimanded. "No, sir," he stated crisply. "No reason at all, sir."

"Good. Dismissed, Colonel," Hammond told him, and then turned his attention back to Ferretti, fully expecting his order to be followed. It was, the man quickly retreating back down the aisle to join his fellow officers.

"Been having trouble with people thinking you're faking the injury, I take it?" Hammond questioned, shaking his head. "Fraiser had doubts that you'd ever walk again, much less manage to stay in the military."

"If it wasn't for the part of the job about looking for personnel for you, I probably wouldn't have been able to," Ferretti admitted. "My wife and I live on the base, and I don't use the barrack's showers, so other than the base's CMO no one has ever seen the chunk that missing out of my calf. And he doesn't have a clue as to what did that kind of damage, every time he's asked and tried to guess I've told him it's a classified matter and I can't talk about it. What's worse is that the base CO doesn't have the clearance to know about my last posting either, and he's not happy about that. My even still being in the military says there's some kind of 'favoritism' going on, and he's not the kind of person who's willing to put up with that. Especially when the person isn't a favorite of _his_."

"Is he giving you trouble as well? I can put in a word for you in the upper ranks if it's becoming a growing problem. And what happened to your cover story?"

"He's tried twice to order me to tell him about my last posting. If it wasn't for the fact that I know there's a gag order from the President and Joint Chiefs in my record, I wouldn't have a leg to stand on if he tried to bring me up on insubordination charges for refusing to answer. Which he _did_ threaten to do the second time he confronted me on the matter. As for my cover, someone apparently screwed up. Somehow they missed putting all the information in the system to back it up, they left a hole that was big enough for it to be spotted if you knew what to look for. The first person who checked my background found out it was a just that, a story. And unfortunatelythat was the General."

"What exactly happened?" Hammond questioned.

"He ordered me to tell him about the posting. I told him it was classified. He pointed out he was a Brigadier General, and that he'd looked at my record, knew someof the informationin itwas false. I asked him what his security rating was and what was his need to know. His rating is three levels too low to know about the project. He was about as un-amused as you can get at this revelation."

"Brigadier General David Arrington, right?" Hammond questioned, writing the information down as well. "I'll have a word with General Ryan and General Maynard about him and see what can be done to get him off your back. You don't need that kind of harassment on top of other problems, and they can move you to a different posting if it looks like there's no way to get him to back off. Now, how about those other people you think may work out for us?"

They talked through the three-hour flight until the plane landed in Peterson base, where a helicopter waited to take Hammond to the mountain. Armed with a series of notes to his old friends from Ferretti, Hammond wished him a good journey, thanked the pilots, and headed back to his posting to get some late evening work done.

He had the names of some potential people to bring in before they lost the chance to get them.

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Taking a break from Daniel-sitting, O'Neill had just gotten comfortable in his on-base quarters when the red light signaling an off-world activation started flashing, letting him know there was an incoming visitor. Rolling over with a groan, he reached for the phone just as it rang. "O'Neill," he snapped. "Who is it, Simmons?" he demanded.

"We're getting General Carter's IDC, sir," came the immediate answer.

"Let him in, I'm on my way," O'Neill told him, rising and slipping on his shoes as he hung up the phone, then grabbing his shirt on the way out the door.

He found the gate was already shut down and Jacob was talking with Siler when he arrived, the Master Sergeant being currently on night duty while they did some work on the gate's bracing and support system. Both men turned as he came in, and Jacob gave him a concerned look. "Jack, I didn't get your message, sorry. The sergeant was just telling me what happened to Daniel. I do have my gear with me, so Selmak and I can see what we can do to help."

"Quite a bit of gear from the looks of things," O'Neill stated, looking at the rucksack at Jacob's feet. "Planning on staying a while?"

"You could say that. Let's head up to medical, and I'll fill you in on the way," was the reply as Jacob bent to open up a side pocket and remove the familiar healing device from it. "Sergeant, is there a room available to me right now?" he asked Siler.

"Of course, sir," the man assured him, motioning one of the airmen forward to take Jacob's bag. "Level 22, room B-23," he told them both. "Your usual room when you're staying here, sir."

"Ah, thank you," Jacob stated, and followed the impatient O'Neill out of the gate room. "How bad is Daniel's condition?" he asked.

"He was hit with a contact poison that caused a couple of heart attacks. He was lucky. He was with a team that had a good enough medic to keep him alive until they could get him home. We brought in a specialist, and she thought she'd isolated the drug used and countered it, but now she's not so sure. His condition is still getting worse. The docs have been saying something about his blood slowly thickening up."

Jacob's head dipped, and Selmak took over as they entered the elevator. "**_Do you believe the assassin had access to offworld poisons_**?" she asked.

O'Neill started, then nodded as he realized the change. "We're thinking it was that rogue element of the NID behind this," he admitted. "So yeah, it's possible they might have something they brought back when they were running the second gate."

"**_Then it's possible that we may know what he's been hit with, Colonel,"_** Selmac told him. **_"It's likely a poison called 'Inkartra', and it's a slow killer. While it's treatable with the hand device, it's not something quickly dealt with. It leaves behind weakness that can take months to recover from. It'll take several healing sessions to cure it if it's had time to get deep into the body and if it's caused damage to the heart already."_**

"He got hit a little over two days ago, and yes, the heart attacks have caused damage. But if you guys can help him, we can deal with the slow recovery," O'Neill assured him as they exited.

Entering medical, the first thing they bothnoticed was how quiet it was, the single patient still in residence was fast asleep and no other personnel around. However, that wasn't very unusual, the staff was smaller at night right now since there was only the one large group off world, so neither man took any real notice of it. Motioning Jacob to follow him, O'Neill led the way to the room where Daniel was staying.

A loud crash was the first indication that something was wrong…

The gunshot was the second…

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Okay, I'm back for a bit. Don't worry, I have been working on things, but I have one scene coming up that has just been driving me _nuts! _Rather than keep delaying things further, I decided to divide the chapter and give it to you as two parts. After this, in fact, I may make the chapters shorter in hopes of getting them out a bit faster.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, and most especially the few people who have talked to me about the story and offered suggestions and encouragement. It's nice to know that all this work is really being appreciated. Please, reviews really are nice, and they let us writers know if we're turning out something good, or just something to yawn over. Conductive criticism is welcome, but no flames, please, I get enough of that at work. Thanks, Nighshae.


	6. Chapter 6

After checking on Lieutenant Meyers and making sure he was sleeping comfortably, Abby yawned and headed for Daniel's room, planning on spending a few hours with him while Janet got some rest. Abby had been taking over the evening shift a little after midnight, making Janet get a good meal and some sleep while she kept an eye on the infirmary's two patients. After two nights, it was settling into a routine, though tonight she was running an hour or two early. Janet had been up and dealing with Meyers' burns that morning, and Abby knew she had to be exhausted.

At this point there should only be eight people in the infirmary, unless Colonel O'Neill had disobeyed her orders and was still sitting with Daniel and Janet. There was Janet and herself, their two patients, three nurses and the security guard on Daniel's room…

But as she headed down the hallway towards room 4, she realized the guard wasn't outside the door like he was supposed to be...

Silently cursing to herself, she moved quickly and quietly down the hall, easing up beside the door and reached for the knob. The very fact that it was closed wasn't a good sign. They usually left it open, drawing the curtain as needed when certain procedures required privacy for their patient.

Her training kicking in and grateful the hall was dimly lit for the evening, Abby turned the knob to open the door. She eased it back slowly, just enough to see the bed inside and ascertain just what the situation was.

She caught sight of the guard standing at Daniel's bedside, drawing something from a vial with a needle and syringe.

Abby didn't hesitate a moment more, slamming open the door with a crash and slapping the alarm button on the wall as she charged across the room at the guard. Startled, he dropped the half empty vial and needle onto the bed and reached for his gun as he turned to face her…

Abby ducked, keeping her body as small a target as possible as the first bullet went wild, hitting the concrete wall. Before he got the second shot off, Abby came in low and hard, hitting him at waist level, her shoulder slamming into his lower abdomen the way Jack had taught her to take someone down. He went down hard against the wall, both of them stumbling into several pieces of equipment as they fell. Her hands scrambled for the gun, trying to pin his arms up and over his head while keeping him from getting off another shot. The last thing they needed was for a stray bullet to hit either Daniel or Janet.

The guard struggled, doing his damnedest to hold onto the gun. He pushed against her body, trying to throw her off of him, but slamming into the wall had knocked the wind half out of him, giving her the upper hand. Still, he kicked at her, yanking his foot free of an entangling cord as he attempted to knock her off her feet to get control again

Abby wedged her shoulder against his chest to hold him against the wall while her fingers dug into the tendons of his wrist. She ignored the guard's punches, concentrating more on getting him to drop the gun. His arm came up to hit her, over extending past her head, giving her enough time to solidly land her elbow hard into his the bridge of his nose, cracking it nicely

At the sound of bone cracking, the man went limp, slumping to the floor as she got the gun out of his loosening fingers at last. Sinking down to her knees, she reached out to feel the unconscious man's throat. She sighed in relief when she found his pulse was strong and steady, then sighed again as she realized that help had arrived during the fight.

"Have a good workout?" O'Neill asked, taking the gun from her before helping her up and steadying her as she wavered for a moment, then recovered her mental 'footing'. "You did what you had to do to protect Daniel and Janet, don't feel guilty about hurting him, Abby."

Abby shook her head, her voice a bit shaky as she replied. "I'm glad I was just able to knock him out. Is Janet all right?" she asked, heading for the bed where Daniel lay as she realized the room was much to quiet. The monitors had all been turned off, and she set about turning them on again so she could be sure he was all right. She found the needle and bottle and quickly set them aside to analyze later when she had more time.

"She's knocked out, but okay, she'll probably have a nasty headache when she wakes up," Jacob quickly assured them both, carefully easing Janet down so she was lying flat on the floor. "Where are the nurses?"

"No idea, probably either knocked out as well or locked in somewhere off in one of the rooms," O'Neill stated as Abby flipped on the heart monitor again. It immediately began to beep in alarm, and Abby cursed, heading swiftly for the nearby crash cart for medication and equipment. "Abby?"

"Damn it, Jack, go find those nurses, he's having another heart attack," she shouted at him, going to work to keep her patient alive.

O'Neill bolted out of the door, even as the monitor tone changed to an all too familiar squeal…

Flat lined…

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"Carlson, Heasley, Morgan, pull your gear out of the stack and take it back to barracks 4," Colonel Roland ordered, his voice harsh with anger, but he had his orders and he would follow them. So did the General, though the man was arguing those orders even now. "When you're done there, report to General Arrington in his office. Seems someone at the Pentagon likes you boys, and you're being transferred to an in-state base in Colorado instead of going to Iraq with the rest of the men." His sneer of contempt made it clear that he was definitely not in favor of the move, and that he didn't think much of them for somehow getting themselves off the front line.

The three men looked at each other in confusion, not sure what in the world was going on, but they moved to follow his orders, finding their bags and pulling them out of the gathered stacks with the help of some of their equally confused comrades. Others, however, weren't so laid back about this. "Wait a minute," one of them asked with an angry glare. "You mean they're not going out to fight like the rest of us? Why the hell not? What makes them so special?"

"They got skills that are needed elsewhere, skills none of the rest of you have or you might be going too," Ferretti stated calmly, coming through the men with a few taps on ankles with his cane to move the growing crowd out of his way. He knew he needed to get them out of there before things got ugly, Roland obviously wasn't going to do anything to defuse the situation. "You three, get a move on. And just to warn you boys, you're not getting out of going into war, you're just going into a different branch of it. One that's a hell of a lot more dangerous some times than what the rest of these troops are going to be facing. Now, move!"

They obeyed, putting their gear inside the barracks' door before following Ferretti to the General's office, all of them wondering what was going down and in the middle of the night, no less. Glancing at his watch, John Heasley noted that it was just after midnight. Everyone should have been heading in to crash in their bunks until boarding the waiting plane in the morning.

"Sir, what's going on?" Morgan questioned as they headed for the General's office. "Why aren't we going to be shipping out with the rest of the guys?"

Ferretti looked around, then replied so quietly that only the three men with him could hear him. "Like I said, you three have skills that are needed elsewhere, doing things that you've trained for, but that the military just isn't used to utilizing. You'll be going places that you've never even dreamed of going, and I wasn't kidding when I said it was more dangerous. It is, I was in on that war for nearly five years before this leg injury took me out of action. Now I do training, looking for the special guys that will best help the program. Out of all the troops on the base, you three are it."

"Top secret work?" Carlson asked, curious. He was a demolitions expert, skilled in working with different materials for making and disarming bombs and explosives of all types. "I take it the Colonel doesn't know where we're going to be going? He seems rather put out about us not going with the others."

"Oh, he knows you're going to Cheyenne Mountain, but not what you're going to be doing there. And he and the General, just to warn you, are both irked that I know what's going on, but they don't," Ferretti admitted.

"The General doesn't even know?" Heasley exclaimed. "It's that secret?"

"Yep," Ferretti admitted, limping along at an amazingly fast rate. "The guys who work there have the same security level as the President and the Joint Chiefs. General Arrington doesn't have that level of clearance, and probably never will, he's let this situation get his nose to out of joint. Now, be quiet when we get in there, I still got to get you guys out of here. They aren't happy to be losing you in the war abroad, and they're definitely not happy with me for bringing you to General Hammond's attention."

"General Hammond? I haven't heard of him," Morgan stated.

"Not surprising, he's Air Force, not Marines. Major General George Hammond, to be exact, CO of the lower Cheyenne Mountain complex. And yes, there's both an upper and lower complex there. Believe me, the lower area is a lot more interesting than the Air and Space monitoring center in upper Cheyenne."

"NORAD?" Heasley commented. "I thought that's all that was there? Along with an old missile silo most people don't even know exist."

"Yes, and that old missile silo is what's _really_ interesting about that mountain," Ferretti told them as they went up the steps to the General's office and into the reception area. They were waved through to the main office where Brigadier General David Arrington was just slamming down his telephone in frustration.

Looking up as the four men came to attention and saluted him, Arrington's glare immediately came to rest on Ferretti. "Give me one damn, good reason why I shouldn't have you court marshaled for disobeying my orders, Lieutenant Colonel Ferretti," he demanded, his voice angry.

Ferretti leaned on his cane, facing the older man down with the confidence of someone who knew they were firmly in right, and had the backing to prove it. "I was obeying the orders of a superior officer, General. I have standing orders from the Joint Chiefs concerning finding personnel for my prior base of operations. This transfer to Iraq was a last minute announcement and even if I hadn't run into Major General Hammond and told him about these three directly, their files would still have been on General Ryan's desk on Monday, sir," Ferretti informed him. "I sent their names on to my contact in the Pentagon before heading for the airport earlier this evening. Talking to the General simply expedited things and saved the military the necessity of tracking the men down and shipping them back to the states."

The general glared at him even harder. "You disobeyed my orders and interfered with my personnel, Colonel. You and your wife had best start packing, I'm planning on seeing to it you're out of here as soon as humanly possible. I will _not _put up with your disloyalty to me any longer," he thundered, then calmed himself, speaking in a lower tone. "Unless you would like to explain to me exactly where these men are going and why…"

"Sir, I am under orders from the President himself not to speak of my prior posting," Ferretti told him, not shifting an inch in his stance. Any sign of weakness, he knew, and Arrington would verbally tear him apart.

Arrington's voice got even softer, almost cajoling in nature. "Come, come, Colonel, I won't tell if you don't. And isn't it fair to give these gentlemen some idea of what you're getting them into?"

Ferretti gave him a humorless smile; he was between the proverbial rock and a hard place, and knew it, but he also knew that rock didn't have a chance in hell of hitting him. "Giving out that information, General, would result in my being executed for high treason without benefit of a court martial or trial," he told them all. "Not even my wife knows what I did at that posting, only that it was dangerous, and resulted in my having my ultra high security clearance. My apologies, sir, but you simply don't have a clearance high enough for me to tell you anything about that posting."

Arrington's eyes became even stormier as his anger grew. "Very well, Lieutenant Colonel, you're hereby relieved of your command responsibilities. Take these three with you, gather their things and return to your home until their transport arrives to take them in the morning. When they leave, so do you. If you can't, or won't, follow _my _orders, I don't want you on my base. Your wife can remain until the Joint Chiefs decide your new posting, I've already informed them that I don't want you here any longer. Until then, keep these three with you, and away from the other personnel. As far as I'm concerned, they're deserters. Dismissed!"

The three young men looked stunned, but Ferretti had been half suspecting something like this was bound to happen. He snapped off a proper salute to the man, then turned and herded the other three out the door.

Once outside, Heasley recovered his voice. "Sir, can he really call us deserters?" he asked, concerned. That was _not_ something he wanted on his records, and it wasn't their fault they'd been singled out.

"No, he can't. You three are simply following orders from higher up in the chain of command, same as I am. He's just not used to having someone else of lower rank tell him he can't know about something. Don't worry about me, I've been expecting something like this to happen for some time now. I'll be fine, and you'll be off to your new posting tomorrow. Now, let's grab your gear before someone has the time to decide to do something creative with it, and you three can crash in my living room for the night. My wife loves to show off her cooking so you'll get a good breakfast in the morning before you leave."

Stopping by the barracks, they picked up their bags, then went on to the Colonel's house, one of a long line of single-family officer's homes on the outskirts of the base. All three of them watched, curiously, as Ferretti climbed the four steps to the front porch, grasping the rail and take each step one at a time. "Colonel, if you don't mind us asking, what exactly happened to your leg?" Morgan questioned.

"I got shot in the back of the calf, burned off about half the muscles and wiped out some of the tendons. I'm lucky I can walk at all, believe me. I'll let you boys have a look see in the morning so you have some idea what can happen to you. And believe me, what happened to me will be the least of your worries out in the field."

"Fate worse than death?" Heasley asked, half joking, half serious.

Ferretti's look was deadly serious as he turned and looked them over, holding the screen door open for them to go in. "Oh, yeah. Believe me, there's definitely things that can happen out there that make dying look good. But you'll find that out later when you go through disclosure. At that point, you'll be given the option of getting out of the transfer if you really want to. I'm hoping you all don't, they need you out there."

Once inside, he turned on the lights so they could see their way in the comfortably furnished home. "Go ahead and relax for the rest of the night, I don't expect anyone to show up for you boys too early in the morning, so you can get some real rest," he told them, heading to get them some blankets and pillows from the hall closet. They all had sleeping bags in their gear, and were used to sleeping on rocky ground, so the flat, carpeted floor would be fairly comfortable for them. Finally he left them to get some sleep and think about what little he'd told them.

All of them had a very, very restless night.

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'Ring…'

Rolling over and three quarters asleep, Carter reached for her cell phone, flipping it open and answering it without thought. "Carter," she murmured, looking at the clock. Who would be calling her at four am?

"Carter, it's O'Neill," came the reply, and his somber tone brought her to immediate wakefulness. "There will be a plane ready to bring you back to the Springs in one hour, and you should probably bring Sarah with you."

"Sir, what's wrong?" Carter asked, alarm growing as she took in the tone of his voice. "What's happened?"

"There was an assassin inside the SGC," he told her, his voice definitely showing signs of stress now. "It was one of the security guards that we had put on Daniel, and he was able to knock out Janet. Abby took him down, but not before he had triggered another heart attack. Your dad was here, and he and the doc tried their best, but…"

Carter felt her throat close up as what he was saying sunk in. "Sir?" she questioned, wanting to be sure she understood.

"You need to come back right away, Sam. Daniel's dead…"

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Well, here's the second half of chapter 5 which has now become chapter 6. Hope you all enjoy, just remember that if you kill me, I can't finish the story...


	7. Chapter 7

As promised, the three young men got to sleep in later than they usually did, Ferretti's wife waking them just a little after 8 before heading off to the kitchen to fry them up bacon and pancakes for breakfast. They each helped out in the kitchen as they took turns in the bath to shave and wash up.

Heasley was coming out of the bath and the other two were setting the table for breakfast when Ferretti called them into the living room and showed them the massive, but healed wound on the back of his leg, a huge burn scar that left his tendon short and prevented him from taking a full step. "Doc Fraiser was sure I was going to lose the leg when I was brought in with this, but she did her damnest to save it, and was as surprised as everyone else when she succeeded."

"Looks like you had a close encounter with a flame thrower or something like it," Morgan commented, curious, kneeling to get a better look at the scarring. "But the damage is so… localized."

"Yah, that's what gets most people when they do see it," Ferretti agreed, smiling, but didn't offer any further information. "You'll have a chance to see what caused that damage later, and you better pray you're not going to end up in front of one yourself."

"You're serious about this job being more dangerous than what those other guys are going to be facing in Iraq?" Heasley asked, watching him as he sat down and eased the leg of his pants back down over the mutilated leg. "And why are they so interested in the three of us to begin with?"

"Oh, yeah, _much_ more dangerous. As for why… Well, you, for starters, are a linguist and archeologist, as well as a good soldier. You can get along with civilians, and you're a history buff. Your geology background is a bonus in the job, they're always looking for more them for the teams. Carlson, you know how to handle just about any explosive known to the US military, and you've been heard to complain about not having anything challenging to play with. That's going to change, you're going to love playing with Major Carter's toys. Morgan, you're another history buff, especially when it comes to ancient Middle Eastern history, and that's something that they really need as well. You don't have Heasley's experience as an archeologist, but that's not necessarily something they're looking for. It's a bonus, but not something you _have_ to have."

"Since when is the military so interested in archeologists? I thought they brought in consultants when something came up in that field?" Heasley questioned, pulling on his socks and reaching for his boots as he sat down on the couch. "No one's ever shown any interest in that part of my schooling."

"Wasn't brought to the attention of the right people is all. Ever heard of Dr Daniel Jackson?"

Heasley looked up from lacing his boot. "Oh, yeah… Made some claims about the age of the pyramids being incorrect, that they could be thousands of years older than archeologists believe. Some people have said that he thinks they were made my men from Atlantis, or even Martians, but that's just bad reporting. Everything I've heard from my friend Teresa says that he never said that at all."

"He didn't," Ferretti assured him. "What have you heard of him lately?"

"He hasn't been heard from on a professional level for eight or nine years that I know of. He disappeared right after that lecture about the pyramids and no one has heard from him since."

Ferretti smiled. "He's been working as a civilian consultant for the Air Force at Cheyenne Mountain for the last seven years or so. Let's just say, he's going to be your boss."

Heasley considered this as he finished tying off the second boot, and grinned. "He's suppose to be a really nice guy, that could be a perk," he admitted cheerfully.

"That it could be. Carlson, what's bugging you?" Ferretti asked, noting the man's frown and thoughtful look.

"Why me?" the young man questioned, his voice rising a bit as he mentally tried to put the pieces together. "Explosive experts are a dime a dozen in the military, so why single me out? There's a half dozen guys in the group going over that are as good as I am."

Ferretti's smile turned to a full grin. He knew Carlson was a smart one, and he was proving it with that question. He could see all three of them were thinking over every word that he was saying, and knew there was going to be a lot more questions later on. "Number one, you know when to keep your mouth shut. Number two, your hobby, of all things."

Carlson blinked, his confusion growing. "Ancient weapons?" he asked. "You picked me because I'd rather use a bow than a gun?"

"And who cannot only give the history of every ancient weapon in the history museum over in LA, but knows how to use most of them. Believe it or not, that's the main thing that got you picked out for the job. It's a skill no one else has at the mountain, and it's one that's been desperately needed in the past."

"What does using a sling, sword or atlatl have to do with working for the Air Force?" Carlson asked.

"That's something you'll have to wait to find out. Disclosure time will explain a lot," Ferretti assured them.

"This doesn't sound like any sort of posting I've ever heard of," Carlson told him.

"It isn't, believe me. The place you're going, they're actually going to expect you boys to think on your own and question what you see. Not asking questions and taking things at face value is a damn good way to get yourself killed," he warned them, noticing that his wife was putting platters on the table. "Now, you boys go tuck into that food the missus has finished up, while I go finish getting dressed and packed to get out of here. Seems the General was serious about wanting me off the base, and the Pentagon has already decided to send me back to the mountain to take over field training there."

"Bet your wife isn't happy about that," Heasley murmured.

"Actually, we got a house there already, so she's delighted, though we'll have some work to do before we can move back in. Been renting the place out, and it sounds like the last tenants weren't the best pick," Ferretti admitted, rising and heading off to get ready to go.

They had just finished eating and helped to clean up when the call came that their ride was just entering the base. Since two vans of personnel were just arriving out front, and a large moving van was coming in after them, it was pretty easy to guess what was going on. Ferretti smiled when he saw who was getting out of the first van. "Satterfield, good to see you're still with the program," he told the young woman, with a cheerful grin. She had joined the SGC right out of the Academy as he'd been recovering from his injuries, and he remembered her kind and cheerful manner in dealing with people. Not to mention the crush she'd had on Daniel Jackson... "They sent you to pick us up?"

"Nope, I was sent to help your missus while we pack your house up," came the reply as a group of big, burley marines joined her along with the usual moving crew. He grinned as he recognized them as his former team, and nodded a greeting while Satterfield continued to explain what was going on. "Lieutenant Colonel Davis should be at the General's office by now, and then he'll be heading this way to pick you all up." Her look sobered, the cheery look fading away, and she stepped up close to him and lowered her voice so just he could hear her. "I think I better tell you this now; we lost Dr Jackson this morning. Heart attack, there was nothing they could do. The guard on his room turned out to be an assassin and he delayed them enough so that by the time they knew there was a problem, it was too late."

"Oh, damn it all to hell," Ferretti swore, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "That guy just never seemed to get a break. Not news I wanted to hear, but better now than later, you're right about that… They get the bastard?"

"Yeah, the doctor helping Dr Fraiser with Daniel took him down, and they got him locked up for questioning," she assured him.

"That's good," he sighed "When's the funeral? I'd like to be there if possible…"

She shook her head. "There's no way to get back there in time," she told him, wiping at her own eyes and giving a sniff. "We were already on the road when we got the word, and the funeral could possibly be over by now. They heard that someone was going to try to seize his body for scientific study because of what happened to him… He died, disappeared and returned, and the guys at 51 want to know if he changed at all doing that. It's the NID, as usual, and the Colonel and the General want to make damn sure they don't get their hands on him."

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Wearing his full dress uniform, O'Neill watched the work crew Siler was directing put together the wooden frame that would hold Daniel's coffin in the path of the exploding 'kawoosh' effect of the engaging Stargate. It was highly fitting, everyone thought, that the gate he had helped to open would offer Daniel's body its final resting place. Anything caught in the effect was disintegrated completely, and it would ensure that his remains wouldn't be dug up or seized for study, something they'd already been warned was in the works. So far, the order hadn't come through, and they hoped they'd gotten enough of a jump on things to take care of this before the order did arrive.

At this point, in fact, it was unclear how the NID and the Pentagon had even found out what had happened. The speed in which they had learned about Daniel's death was alarming, and hinted that various groups still had agents inside the SGC they hadn't found yet. Either that, or Davis' phone wasn't as secure as he thought it was.

Then again, tapping Carter's cell phone was probably even easier than tapping Davis' would be, he mused, and wondered if he'd inadvertently given things away himself. Well, he'd put Carter to work on that as soon as the funeral was done, it would give her something to do to keep her mind off of things.

Sarah had chosen not to come, not wanting to face old memories of what she'd been forced to do, and knowing that her being there would disturb a number of people who had had the misfortune of running into Osiris. She instead remained with her students in Chicago to mourn in private.

Others were gathering, and things were ready to start as soon as Carter arrived. The coffin itself was in the armory just down the hall, an honor guard in place, and Teal'c was backing General Hammond up as they questioned the assassin. What was going to happen to him when they were done with their questioning was something that hadn't been decided yet, but O'Neill was half hoping he'd go the same way Daniel's body went.

Siler and the work crew finished up, and O'Neill looked at his watch. He'd set the time with the Alpha Site himself earlier that morning, and he hoped that he'd given the last of the mourners time to get into place. He could see people gathering in the control room, and in the briefing room above it, so he wasn't surprised when more people began to file into the Gate room, all staying respectfully quiet as the offworld teams began to form up into small groups. Janet came in with them, and he moved to her side to give her a comforting hug, ignoring the fact completely that both of them were in full uniform. "How are you holding up?" he asked her softly.

"Tired, and still a little dizzy from getting hit," she admitted. "Sam's on her way down right now, she said to thank you for making sure her dress blues were on the plane so she could change and come straight in."

He nodded. "I know this seems fast, but there's a reason for it," he told her softly. "If we want to keep the body out of NID hands, we have to do this _now_!"

She nodded in agreement. "I can't believe they want to…," she started, then stopped, shaking her head as her words trailed off. "Can they stop things once the funeral starts?" she asked.

"No, I made sure of that," he assured her as Hammond came in, Teal'c right behind him. "Sir, get anything out of him?"

"NID rogues, the names he gave us match some of the ones on that list of agents that have disappeared recently. He's in debt to the wrong people, and they offered to clear those debts if he'd take Dr. Jackson out. He says he tried to refuse, tried to get rid of them, but then they told him they'd make sure those 'wrong people' found out where he and his family were living. A fine mix of blackmail and bribery from the story he gave us."

"Sounds like we need to do a new round of background checks on our personnel," O'Neill mused. "Probably should every few months anyway."

"Set it up, Colonel," Hammond told him as a murmur arose behind them. They all turned in time to see Carter coming in, her uniform pristine, but her red-rimmed eyes told of recent tears.

Nodding to the two men, she moved immediately to Janet, hugging the woman in a show of mutual grief. "Are you all right?" she asked softly.

"I'll live, your father and Selmak took care of most of the concussion that guard gave me last night," Janet assured her, brushing away her own tears. "I'm going to take some time off, a week or two at least. Abby is staying around, and I'm going to take Cassie to Florida for a real vacation. Put this place behind me for a while."

"You should," Carter agreed, letting her go and stepping back as a piercing whistle brought everyone to formal attention, the honor guard carrying in the casket so the funeral could begin.

It was a sober affair, Hammond and then O'Neill speaking from a podium beside the ramp instead of at the top of it like they had in the past. Both spoke of their first impressions of Daniel, O'Neill telling the story of how he had turned the research team's theories inside out within minutes of seeing the Gate's cover stone. It brought a few chuckles and smiles to the room, as he had hoped it would, and reminded them all again that if it hadn't been for Daniel, none of them would be doing what they were doing now. And the earth would be unaware and undefended as far as the Goa'uld were concerned, at the very least.

O'Neill glanced at his watch, seeing he had only one minute left, and noticed a commotion growing in the control room as he continued to speak. "When we first met the Tok'ra, it was Daniel who realized what their name really meant. They were 'against Ra', the first system lord that we killed, Daniel and I. Garshaw pointed out that in a way we were 'Tok'ra' ourselves, Daniel most of all for his strong desire to end the Goa'uld rule of our galaxy. As such, we thought it was fitting that in his case, we should give him a funeral in the Tok'ra fashion."

As the inner ring began to turn, the honor guard lifted the flag from the casket and stepped quickly down the ramp, getting clear of the danger area and then folding the flag properly. O'Neill stayed by the podium, but he noted that Hammond had disappeared and there were no warnings coming from the control room. The normal alarms had been silenced, so only the roar of the forming wormhole as it disintegrated the casket and its contents was heard as the guard finished folding the flag and handed it formally off to O'Neill. He took it in it his arms, and passed it then to Dr. Fraiser, Janet being the closest to Daniel's heart at this time. She had tears in her eyes as she took it from him, holding it close as the somber ceremony came to an end.

The group broke up as the Stargate shut down, people going back to their jobs, and O'Neill was quick to send Carter with Janet while he headed for the control room. The thick glass stopped sound from reaching the gate room, but he could see there was a definite ruckus forming up there. He headed up as quickly as he could, not at all happy to see who had decided to give them a visit. "Kennedy, Kinsey, what brings you two to our fine facility?"

Kinsey turned to glare at him, annoyed as always with O'Neill's 'lack of respect' for his current title. "Who gave you permission to destroy Dr Jackson's body, Colonel?" he demanded.

"Daniel's will requested cremation if he didn't ascend again," O'Neill told them. "Unlike some of us, he also liked some of the Tok'ra, and was interested in their customs, especially their burial rites. He told me himself that if he were to die again, he wanted to be sure that his final resting place would be somewhere where his remains would never be bothered. I just combined the two together, and made sure that his request and wishes were carried out."

Kennedy's face glowed angrily, he knew there was no way he could ever get to do his studies now. "We needed that body, Colonel, to study, there's no way to tell how Dr. Jackson changed when he came back from the dead if we couldn't examine him…" He looked over at Walter Harriman, who was in his normal place at the controls. "Why didn't you close the iris when I ordered you to?" he demanded.

"Because I have to reach the hand plate, and you were between me and it," Walter replied, a hint of anger underlying his reply. "I couldn't reach it to close the iris without shoving you out of the way, and you were so intent on shutting the iris yourself you weren't listening to me, you'd shoved me out of _your_ way."

This left the officer confused. "Hand plate? What are you talking about?"

"Who cares," O'Neill told him, cutting off any explanation. "You weren't going to get Daniel if me and the entire base had anything to say about it. And as Daniel's executor, I damn well _did_ have the final say."

Kennedy rocked back on his heels at the force of O'Neill's anger washed over him, and wisely shut up as Hammond and O'Neill turned their attention to Kinsey. "What are you doing here, Senator?" Hammond asked him.

"I came to pay my final respects to the good doctor," Kinsey replied, still watching O'Neill with some suspicion. "In spite of our… disagreements… in the past, I still had some fondness for Dr Jackson, even if his _ideals_ still put our good earth in danger."

O'Neill let out a disgusted snort. "Yeah, right. Daniel's 'ideals', and those of others like him, have kept us from becoming no better than the Goa'uld, scavengers willing to do anything to get more power."

Kinsey's glare grew hotter. "We're nothing at all like the Goa'uld, Colonel, we don't go enslaving other races."

"No, you haven't stepped over that line. _Yet_. But you have ordered items stolen from our allies and come damn close to leaving us without any help at all out on the other side of that gate," O'Neill replied hotly. "Heaven help the earth if the NID ever get control of this base, we'll have our own friends breathing down our necks."

"If the NID had control of that gate, we wouldn't need those allies so much, we'd be able to defend ourselves without any of their so-called 'help'," Kinsey replied with equal heat, then stepped back and made a visible effort to calm his anger. "This isn't the place or time to discuss this, Colonel. Tell me, General, who is going to take command of Dr Jackson's departments now?" he asked. "Got to have the _right_ people in charge of those scientists, after all."

"Those decisions haven't been made yet, Senator, as you said, this isn't the time for it," Hammond told him calmly. "Colonel O'Neill and I will make those choices over the next week or two."

"I've heard that you're hiring new personnel for those departments. Perhaps you should wait and choose someone new for the posts. I know of some people who are experts in those various fields, I would suggest you consider some of them for those jobs… I'll have my office send you a list."

"There's no guarantee those people will be eligible to actually work here, Senator," Hammond pointed out as Kinsey turned to leave.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll all pass your checks," Kinsey assured them. "Even if they don't have Dr Jackson's _ideals_, they're all just as knowledgeable as he ever was and they know their loyalty needs to be with the defense of this planet. Unlike some of those here who have been infected with Jackson's goody-goody nature." Shaking his head, he headed out, Kennedy trailing behind him and leaving Hammond looking perplexed.

O'Neill scowling at his back. "Is it just me, or did what he say sound a lot like the garbage spouted off in that letter?" he asked.

"It sounded a lot like that letter," Hammond agreed as they headed upstairs to the briefing room and on to his office. "I think we better take a very, very close look at that list when we get it, Jack. I have the feeling the names on that list could wind up being of people just like those missing NID personnel."

"If not worse," O'Neill agreed, taking off his tie and jacket and laying them over a chair. "If Kinsey is behind this, and from that it pretty much sounds like he is, he's flaunting it right in front of our faces and daring us to do something about it. And we can't, can we, there's no proof?"

"Not yet there isn't, and from the look of the pre-election polls, it looks as though he's going to get the vice-president's position with Hayes. If that happens, we're going to be in for a rough ride, Jack. He gets Hayes on his side, and we'll lose the SGC for good. And that would be a planetary disaster."

O'Neill nodded and changed the subject, he'd work out how to pin Kinsey to this mess later on. "Abby and the supplies went on the Beta site early this morning without any comment or trouble. Davis should be back with Ferretti and those new boys in a couple of hours, and then we'll see what new information he was able to pick up for us. I don't trust communications in and out of the mountain right now. Jacob went out just before Abby and the team to find someone to send a message on to Malek, then he'll be going on to Beta as well. What did the Joint Chiefs say when you told them Jacob and Selmak have left the Tok'ra for good?"

"They weren't happy, but there isn't anything they can do about it, and they know it. Either way, we would have lost our standing with the group. At least this way we have Selmak, and perhaps managed to keep a few supporters in the group who will be able to help Selmak and Jacob help us. From what Jacob told me, he was fairly sure that Malek and Garshaw would still support the Tau'ri cause, and Selmak concurred."

"Should be interesting to see what happens the first time they need us for one of their 'special' missions. Should also be interesting to see if they show up demanding that we return their 'kidnapped' ambassador, Selmak," O'Neill admitted with a smirk. "Well, Janet has lined up a two week vacation for herself and Cassie, I need to go see if she wants to take that vacation off world. Teal'c was planning on heading out to spend a week or so with Master Bra'tac."

"What about Major Carter, Jack?" Hammond pointed out quietly. "She took his ascending hard before."

"Yes, and I'll find an excuse to take her to Beta tonight, but for now I've got a question for her that should keep her busy for a bit. The only people outside the base to know about Daniel's death were Davis and Carter, they're the only ones I called to inform them of what happened. So how the hell did Kinsey and Kennedy find out about it?"

Hammond looked properly alarmed at this question. "I have no idea, Colonel, but I suggest we find out, and fast."

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Abby shivered as she stepped out of the Stargate, stumbling as someone gripped her arm to steady her and help her down the steps from the gate itself. "You all right?" asked a calm, cheerful voice. "Just take it slow, it's a bit unsettling the first time you go through the gate, and if you push it, you'll likely be sick."

"God, that was the roller coaster from hell," she told him, shaking a bit as they got clear and the first of the FREDs came through. "And cold!"

"You'll have to ask Major Carter to explain it to you, I don't know the tech behind the gate myself, but she can tell you all about it," Reynolds told her as the second load of supplies arrived. "Four FREDs, you and airman Everett, is that right?"

"Pretty much," she nodded as the male nurse came through and stepped down to make sure she was all right. Abby blinked at him, noting how calm and collected he was. "You've obviously done this before."

"More times than I care to think about," Everett replied, grinning. "Nice to do it into a peaceful area for a change, usually we're going in to evacuate wounded out a fire fight."

She nodded in understanding. "Some of the things in this load are pretty delicate, I hope there's a smooth trail to the base site," Abby told Reynolds. "I don't want things badly shaken up on the overland route."

"First thing we did was clear the path and set sensors and alarms on the gate so we know if it's activated," Reynolds told her as the last of the track vehicles loaded down with supplies came through. A moment later the gate closed down, giving her a clear view of the entire clearing. "We have the medical facilities the Colonel ordered all set up and ready for use. We thought you'd like more room for yourself, and have an area curtained off for your personal use, along with a nearby tent for Everett. You're not the only woman here, mind you, I have Lieutenant Drake on my team, and Major Stevens is with Colonel Pierce."

"Oh, that's nice to know," she assured him as they headed down the trail away from the gate. The four vehicles moved along easily enough, not tipping or being jarred at all on the smooth track. "How long will it take for us to reach the camp?"

"About twenty minutes," Reynolds assured her. "Delicate equipment? Not cold sensitive I hope? A lot of stuff tends to freeze coming through the gate."

Abby nodded and headed for the second FRED, which held the large, oblong box she was most concerned about. The entire line came to a quick halt as she removed a couple of crates and motioned for others to help her. "I want to get this heavy crate open right now," she told them. "I don't know if we wrapped this piece of 'cargo' warmly enough or not. I think we did, but after bouncing down those steps…"

Reynolds, and Major Harper, whose team was running the FREDs, moved quickly to help her and Everett unbury the box they were most concerned about. It took a few minutes to unload the track vehicle and Abby motioned them to the opposite side of the heavy wooden box. Unlike most of the crates, which were just made for a fast trip and tended to have slatted sides, it was made of good, solid wood. And it was big. "Lift straight up, the lid is inset to hold it firm, it's not secured," she stated.

The two Marines nodded, grasping the slight lip on the box and lifting it up as she directed. They shifted the heavy lid back to reveal the SGC's idea of 'precious cargo'.

Seeing what was inside, both men had to agree that to some, that was exactly what it was…

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Hello, everyone. Just to let you know, I have the next chapter started already, and I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far. Reviews to tell me what you think of it would be, as always,welcome! (BG)


	8. Chapter 8

Well, it took three months and two nearly complete rewrites, but here, at last, is chapter 8. The next chapter is already in the works, and will hopefully be heading your way in a much shorter time than this one did. Enjoy

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_So, Selmak left last night?_ Ashka asked her symbiote, Latara, silently_. I heard there was a major chase last night, and Anise was grumbling over breakfast. Something about a kidnapping, though I don't know how a host could kidnap their symbiote._

_:I don't understand it either:_ Latara agreed. _:The council seems to have done something to have upset the pair and driven them off, but no one is talking about it. They only stated that everyone is to watch for the pair and escort them back as soon as they can be found.:_

Ashka got settled better under the sand, their position just off to one side of the Stargate so they could hear and see if anyone were to come through. Others had done the same, using the opportunity to rest, one of the pair staying awake while the other slept. The symbiote needed less rest than the host did, so it was easy for them to keep watch while their host partner slept through the hottest part of the day.

It was nearly the end of the shift, the night watch was due and everyone was awake again when the Stargate began to turn, drawing their attention. The doubled guard all took shelter, the new shift hiding out of sight behind nearby stones and even the Stargate itself, while the day shift sunk back into their places the sand again.

The gate opened, and settled, a lone figure stepping through, his gray robes and silver armor identifying him immediately as a Jaffa. He looked around, lightly holding onto his staff weapon as the gate disengaged behind him, and let out an amused snort. "You grow careless, Tok'ra. At least four of you would be dead by now if I wished you so. Hiding behind rocks? At least the two of you behind the Chaapa'ia would have had a slight chance of taking me out before I was fully aware of you."

Ashka let Latara have control as she rose from the sand to face the old Jaffa. **_"Who are you, and how did you come here?"_** she demanded.

The old man gave her a stern look that reminded her of a teacher she'd once dared to question as a child. "I am Bra'tac of the Free Jaffa. I have come with a message for Malek, take me to him, or call him here to me."

"**_Malek is not one to just be summoned at a whim,"_** answered one of the night shift, stepping out from behind the ring of the Stargate. **_"How do we know you are Bra'tac? And how do you know of Malek?"_**

"**_He is Bra'tac,"_** another of the newcomers stated, joining the gathering guards**_. "I remember you well from the Alpha Site, Master Bra'tac. You helped keep the peace between Jaffa, Tok'ra and Tau'ri when the as'rak followed us to the safety of the base. From whom does your message come?" _**

"That is for Malek to hear," Bra'tac stated firmly. "I need to see him immediately. Can you take me to him?"

"I am afraid that is not possible, Master Bra'tac," Ashka stated, her tone respectful as she spoke to him. "But as Malek is head of security here, we must report to him upon our return to the base. If you would consent to wait, he could be here in a short time." She gave him a smile. "Time you could, perhaps, spend teaching the night shift to find better hiding spots to watch the Stargate?"

His surprised look gave way to a toothy grin. "A fair trade," he agreed. "Be off with you, though, my news to Malek is urgent."

She nodded, then turned and bolted off into the deepening darkness. _Quite an interesting man, isn't he?_ She asked her symbiote silently. _I have never seen a Jaffa warrior that old._

**_:I have heard of him:_** Latara replied. **_:His wisdom is said to rival Selmak's. I hope he comes bearing news of our eldest. I don't know what the Council did to so upset them, but they belong here, with us, not out on their own.:_**

_Would they not have gone to the Tau'ri?_ Ashka questioned as they approached the ring transport area. Two others following her in came to a stop beside her, and the rings flashed up, then down, carrying them below.

Malek was waiting for them, and it didn't take long for her to deliver the news of the old Jaffa's arrival while the other two headed into the tunnels. He nodded and immediately headed topside, but doing no more than raising his eyebrow when Ashka followed him. **_"You have questions?"_** he asked as they both started back to the gate at a steady jog.

"What has become of Selmak and Jacob?" Ashka asked. "We heard only that they left in the middle of the night, and actually stunned several guards to do so."

"**_The Council demanded that the pair part ways, and Selmak move on to a new host,"_** came the immediate reply. **_"They refused, and the Council, it seems, was willing to take steps to force the issue. They believe that Jacob's loyalty to the Tau'ri endangers the Tok'ra, and that he sways Selmak to their cause, rather than the Council's. It was the 'last straw', as the Tau'ri say. They have left the Tok'ra and gone to live with the Tau'ri."_**

Latara took control from a stunned Ashka. **_"The Council did something that foolish?"_** she demanded, incredulous. **_"And to Selmak? No wonder they left as they did. Do you believe it is possible that they might return to us, some day?"_**

"**_It is not likely," _**came the reply. "**_They are a good pairing, and neither will risk the Council doing something even more rash. Of the entire group, only Garshaw protested the move, and was overruled."_** He gave her one of his wry smiles. **_"If you come across word of the pair, she would be most grateful to know of it. She and Selmak have been very close friends for centuries. I fear she'll worry if she doesn't receive news of them from time to time."_**

Latara agreed as they came over the last sand ridge and approached the Stargate, and Latara noted that there seemed to be no sign of the gate guards. The naquadah in her blood told her they were there, but there had definitely been some improvements made to their hiding spots. **_"He's good,"_** she stated, looking around. **_"Not a body in sight."_**

Malek nodded. **_"Giving lessons, old man?"_** he questioned, clasping arms with the waiting Jaffa. **_"If so, it seems they've learned them well."_** He made a move to Ashka with his hand for her to stay put, a discrete distance away from the pair but still within hearing.

"It helps to have someone who is leaving the area wait to be sure everyone else is out of sight," Bra'tac explained as the pair moved out of the circle of guarding Tok'ra. "I have news from the Tau'ri, Malek, and they have dire need of one of your Za'tarc detectors. There are enemies among them at their main base, and they need to find them. Daniel Jackson was attacked, poisoned once by parchment made with Inkartra poison in it, then attacked last night by an assassin while he lay ill. He survived by the bravery and fighting skills of his healer, but if there are more, such as his assassin, the Tau'ri need to know of them."

"**_Has he been cured of the poison?"_** Malek questioned, frowning. **_"I know that Jacob and Selmak were planning to return to the Tau'ri when they left here."_**

"They have done what was needed, and Daniel Jackson has been moved to a new offworld base to recover, surrounded by those who are less likely to be of the assassin's ilk. I plan on going there myself, to help with his recovery as I can, Teal'c has asked this of me. He and Jacob Carter are waiting for me elsewhere to take me there."

Malek nodded. **_"I will talk with Garshaw, and we will take a detector through to the Tau'ri as soon as possible,"_** he assured the old warrior. **_"I have not met Dr. Jackson, but from what I have heard, he is a wise scholar."_**

"A scholar and a warrior both, few hate the Goa'uld as he does," Bra'tac told him. "Now, my message delivered, I must be on my way. Jacob was anxious to get back to his patient… Tell me, though, what was your 'wise' council thinking in trying such a move as they did on Jacob Carter and Selmak?"

"**_They were not thinking,"_** Malek replied with a deep sigh. **_"That was the problem."_**

Bra'tac nodded as he began to dial the gate. "Perhaps in time they will understand the depth of their error," he told the Tok'ra as the gate established and he swiftly strode through, leaving them behind…

"Why _did_ the Council make the move they did?" Ashka questioned softly, moving back to Malek's side once more.

"_**Because the speed in which the Tau'ri have taken out so many System Lords frightens them. And like so many children, they wish to get rid of their fright by pretending what causes it does not exist. Too many of them believe that when the Tau'ri are done with the System Lords, they will turn their attention to eliminating us as well. And that truly frightens them." **_Leaving them, he headed back towards the base, clearly deep in thought.

It was a most sobering thought.

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Light…

Dizzy…

Cold…

It was a feeling that was all too familiar to him. Slowly darkness gave way to a greenish, garish light as he sought to open his eyes and look around him. He could feel that his body was wrapped in something soft, almost confining, but he wasn't bound. He could hear his own breathing in his ears and there was a mask over his face, he recognized the feel of it from to many times in the infirmary. His arms were heavy like lead pipes at his sides and his legs felt no better. He tried to look down at himself, but without his glasses and the glare just above his face, he couldn't see much. He felt tired, dead tired, but wasn't sure why. Drugs perhaps? He had felt similar grogginess before when sedated, Lord knew how many times he had been in the infirmary at the SGC.

With some effort, he managed to lift one arm upwards, though it was slow going and his muscles protested the use. Cold fingers managed their escape, reaching up, feeling the cold, malleable plastic that surrounded his mouth and nose. Someone was keeping him from suffocating, but why? His hand went towards the green light and hit something soft just above his head, then poked it with his finger. Padding. . foam. . .padding? He felt a small stab of pain in the back of his hand He brought his hand up close to his face and looked at it, squinting against the dim light. He flexed his fingers, feeling how stiff they were and the back of his hand hurt. He could make out small details when he got them close enough, like the tape wrapped around the back of his hand. Surgical tape at that, he thought. He saw the small, plastic tubing. I.V.? To keep him drugged, he realized. His hand worked sluggishly around, finding a seam or divot not too far from reach, and then his fingers finally ran out of strength and dropped down, onto the thick, cottony softness of several blankets wrapped around him. Inside a box?

Another chill ran through him and he groped for more of the warmth that was the blanket. His eyes attempted to focus on the greenish glare of the light just above his face. A bio-luminous stick had been placed on the inside of where he was. A sense of calm came over him from either the drugs or the fact that the NID wouldn't have gone to all the trouble to make sure he was comfortable. But just who had him and why did they put him in a box? His tired mind went through several scenarios, trying to piece together what happened, but the drugs were starting to toy with him once more, making it difficult to think.

Another bone deep chill ran through him and he reached for more blankets, moving too fast and hitting the side of the crate, bouncing off more padding. Someone obviously was treating him as if he were a delicate artifact being shipped somewhere, completely and utterly insulated by thick foam. Oh, the irony. He managed to snag one of the thicker blankets to pull around his body in an attempt to ward off another shiver as it ran through him. He found that other than the coolness of the air, he wasn't really uncomfortable. In fact he could easily go back to sleep…

He felt a jolt suddenly and realized that who or whatever was carrying him had come to a stop. Now what, he pondered as he heard something thumped near him and above him. Soft light began to appear on one edge of the lid and Daniel closed his eyes against it. The lid came further up and he felt a warm hand touch his forehead and then tucking the blankets around him even more. Daniel couldn't make out who it was that was nearby, but as soon as she spoke, he thought he knew...

"Janet?" he managed to whisper past the oxygen mask.

"Er... no... I'm Abby," said the doctor, looking down at him. "You're all right, Daniel. Just rest and relax. That's all you need to worry about." Her tone was gentle, and reassuring. "I was just concerned with the valves on the oxygen tank when we went through the gate. Didn't want them freezing on us and causing some problems with the oxygen flow."

"I told you you didn't have to worry about that," came another voice nearby. "Hi, Daniel. The good doctor here just wasn't aware of some small details when it comes to traveling through the Stargate."

Daniel recognized it immediately as Reynolds, one of the long-time colonels that Daniel had worked with on occasion. "Where . . . am I?" Daniel asked, trying to open his eyes further, but without success.

"You're at the Beta site, Daniel," Abby informed him, reaching down to take his pulse as she brushed aside some of his mussed hair. "Sorry for your traveling accommodations, but it couldn't be helped."

"Beta?" he queried, confused. The Beta site couldn't be up already. It was still in the planning stages as far as he knew. And traveling accommodations? He'd have to ask about that, but later. Right now, he could hardly focus on what was going on.

"Your research facility," Reynolds informed him. "We've started working on the main base and have a temporary camp set up, just waiting for your arrival.

Daniel wanted to ask more, but he was feeling tired and wasn't in the mood to ask twenty questions. He closed his eyes, letting the doctor and Reynolds drift off into a conversation without him. He was grateful that they decided to keep the lid off the box as they began to move along the path again, and under some trees.

Soon, the warmth of the sun and the gentle rocking motion put him right back to sleep.

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"I didn't realize what you were so anxious about, doc, or I could have reassured you about those valves. We've never had trouble with bringing them through the gate," Reynolds told her as they continued slowly down the track that led from the backside of the Stargate. The others took the rest of the FREDs ahead of them, leaving he and the two medics with one other officer to follow. A team of four stayed behind with the gate, guarding it since the camp was about a quarter mile away. "Still, I'm surprised you agreed to bring him here at all, he doesn't look like he's in very good shape."

"Well, if the situation back at the base weren't so unstable, we wouldn't have. And we're hoping for some improvement soon," Abby replied, her concern showing. "Jacob Carter will be arriving here within the next few hours, and he said he'll be staying to assisting me with Daniel's care until he's back on his feet. Apparently the poison used on him was something that the General's symbiote is familiar with. I've been told that curing the damage will take some time, but he assured me they can help him and far faster than I would have been able to do alone."

Reynolds gave her a startled look, turning to face her as they moved among the trees and lost sight of the gate. "The General is coming here? That's surprising, usually the Tok'ra don't let him stay with us too long, they're always sending him out on one mission or another. Any idea how long he'll be able to stay?"

"I haven't heard the whole story yet, but I was told there was no problem with him staying as long as necessary to aide Daniel's recovery."

"Any idea how long that's going to take?"

"A month, perhaps two is what I've been told," Abby admitted. "He's going to be down for some time, but Dr Fraiser has told me that with General Carter's help, Daniel will make a full recovery, and much more quickly than I'm used to seeing in my patients. I wouldn't have given him any chance of a full recovery at all, and nothing other than very light duty after six months."

"Oh, yeah, a healing device is a pretty marvelous piece of technology, but if you don't have the protein marker left by a symbiote, you can't use one," Reynolds explained wryly. "And I don't recommend you trying out a symbiote, that's usually not the most pleasant of experiences."

"How many people have ended up with one?" she asked, curious. "A good one, I mean," she clarified.

"General Carter got Selmak, and they're still together. Major Carter got hijacked by Jolinar, but we knew nothing of the Tok'ra at that point, and as far as the SGC was concerned, it was a Goa'uld and had to go. She was being hunted by an As'rak, a Goa'uld assassin, who also came through with the refugees that SG-1 rescued, and when he caught up with her, Jolinar gave her life to keep the Major alive. I understand a young lieutenant with SG-14 also ended up with a symbiote for a short time, but both had been injured. They gave up their lives to give SG-1 a chance to escape a planet under Goa'uld attack."

"Doesn't sound like most of the encounters have gone well, then, except for the General's," Abby mused, frowning at the thought. It had been implied that several people had had much more disastrous encounters with the nastier groups of Goa'uld. Encounters that hadn't ended well for the humans involved.

"Colonel O'Neill's encounter went the worse, just last year," Reynolds admitted, removing his cap, brushing back his short cut hair and then replacing it. "He was exposed to a fatal disease, and was finally convinced to take a Tok'ra symbiote to save his life. Next thing he knew, he had been deserted by the symbiote, Kanan, and was in the hands of one of the worse of the system lords, Ba'al. He was tortured and revived in a sarcophagus more times than anyone wants to think about. Problem was, we knew where he was, but didn't have the forces to go after him. All we could do was pass the information about the base off to another system lord, and hope that the resulting chaos would give the Colonel a chance to escape."

"Obviously he did," Abby mused. "I bet Jack doesn't trust the Tok'ra much, though."

"Other than Jacob and Selmak, nope," Reynolds told her, shaking his head as they passed through a narrow track between some wide boulders. "He made it home, but was weeks recovering from the trauma he went through. I was one of the ones who helped out as he was getting through the withdrawal, and it was pretty bad at times. Even he can't recall how many times Ba'al killed him. He admitted that if Daniel hadn't showed up and stayed with him, he probably would have been driven mad."

"Okay, you just lost me… And brings up a couple of questions I've had. If Jack had been killed, how could he be revived?" Abby questioned, completely confused now.

Reynolds chuckled, looking down at the Zat he had strapped to his leg with a smile. "Ah, the wonders of alien tech… A sarcophagus can revive the dead, curing all wounds and restoring the person inside to full health. Unfortunately, repeated use over a short period of time causes some rather severe mental breakdowns, especially if the person using it isn't injured at the time. The SGC found that one out the hard way, a couple of years after they got started, and again, it was Daniel who wound up being the guinea pig. Took him nearly a week to get through the delusions, aggressiveness and psychosis that came with the withdrawal. I wasn't around back then, but what I saw with the Colonel was bad enough. It wasn't a pretty sight."

Abby thought back a bit. "Right, that must have been that 'unidentified addiction' I read about," she mused, putting things from Daniel's file together in her head at last. "The symptoms and everything were in the file I got on him, but the paperwork didn't go into any detail on what caused the addiction in the first place. You know, though, the first real conversation I had with Daniel, he asked me if he was dying 'again'. And he mumbled something about 'ascending'."

"Oh, that's a major question you have there, doc," Reynolds admitted. "I know of at least… three times that Daniel has been killed. Each time he was revived through one process or another… Well, at least twice. Some would argue that the third time, though, he didn't really die."

Pausing, he took a swallow of water from his canteen, then offered it to Abby. She shook her head, patting the one she had on her own hip, which was out of his line of sight. "You seem to know an awful lot about the SGC, Colonel, but you told me you're a recent arrival."

"I started at Area 51, then moved into the SGC when things started getting nasty between the SGC and the NID," he explained. "Part of my job was correlating all the SG teams mission reports. Anyway, if you look up Daniel's record, you'll find he's got three canceled death certificates. The first was the first mission, he had nothing to come back here for, and had gotten married on Abydos, so he stayed behind and the Colonel reported he'd been killed. That one lasted for about a year. The second came in the first year they were going out, all four were caught and the other three were implanted with the memories of seeing Daniel burned to a crisp. Things didn't quite add up, though, and they went back to get him when they figured out what had happened just in time to meet him on the beach. His captor had used some sort of memory device on him, wanting to know what happened to someone in the distant past, and was actually releasing him when the rest of SG-1 reached the planet."

"So he didn't die at all that time," Abby stated, thinking about his chart. There had been mention of several head injuries, including a week he'd spent in nearly complete seclusion due to a severe migraine and a bad case of photosensitivity. She would have to remember to keep him out of the direct sunlight most of the time. Besides, there was the problem of reactions with some of his medications…

"Nope. The third time was at Kelowna. They were building one of the most powerful bombs we've ever come across, and had a 'lab accident' when Daniel was watching through the lab window. He shot out the window, and managed to get in and disarm the bomb, but took a lethal dose of radiation doing it."

"And that killed him… I read about the damage done, and it definitely was lethal. But how was he revived? From what you've said, there's a lot missing out of the medical files I was given."

"He wasn't revived, because he didn't quite die… On an earlier mission, they had come across a being of pure energy who lives on a higher plane of existence. Oma Desala, Daniel called her. Radiation poisoning was about to kill him, when she showed up and offered him a chance to 'ascend' into her world. Daniel took her up on the offer, things hadn't been going well with SG-1 at that point, there was a bit of a team breakdown going on, and he felt he could do more good as an ascended being. He was gone about a year when we found him in human form, amnesiac, about seven months ago. SG-1 patched up their problems, and have been back to their old form ever since."

"Sounds like he became an angel, the way you talk about it."

"Some would agree with that assessment. And call him a guardian angel at that, he showed up when Ba'al was torturing the Colonel and stayed with him to keep him sane. Jack told me that Daniel offered to ascend him as well, but he turned him down cold, said he wasn't the type, and he knew that there had to be a way for him to get out of there. Daniel says he doesn't remember hardly anything from that time, just a few flashes here and there, and he knows he wasn't very happy with the Ancients' policy of non-interference. He came back because he couldn't stand to watch as terrible things happened to people he cared about."

"Oh, good God… So, basically, he proved that angels _do_ exist…"

Reynolds' shook his head at that. "The Ancients aren't angels, doc, they've just given up having physical bodies and moved elsewhere. Far as we know, they lived on earth millions of years ago, but a plague nearly wiped them out. Those that survived learned to ascend, to leave their bodies behind. But they won't help anyone, all they do is stand on high and watch."

"Not very good angels then," she agreed, then looked around at the forest they were strolling through. "This is definitely a nice place, Colonel. Looks a lot like what I saw of Colorado."

"That's often the case," he told her. "We find variations of earth type flora everywhere we go, though there are a lot of desert worlds out there as well. Daniel loves those, reminds him of home; he was born in Egypt, after all, and Abydos was a desert world. At any rate, we chose this place because of the cave system we found, and its closeness to the Stargate. This world isn't in the Goa'uld listing, but rather came from the Ancients' download, so it's a 'safe' world. No Goa'uld has ever come here, and there's nothing to lead one here now."

"Caves, you say?" Abby questioned.

"Limestone caves. Pretty dry for the most part, there's a couple of places where streams break through, but we can harness those for water supply and pipe away the excess. We'll put in a water reclamation system and a one of our allies gave us a damn, good waste removal system, so we don't go polluting the local water table. Zats take care of getting rid of any garbage very nicely, we've discovered. All in all, setting up a base like this has very little effect on the local resources. We've gotten better about not leaving any traces on the surface. Our last Alpha site was destroyed a short time back, it was a collection of small buildings out in the middle of a clearing. Easy to target by a Ha'tac from space, it got blown to hell when the Colonel in charge had to use the self-destruct on the generator to be sure that Anubis didn't get anything out of the place. We lost some good people there."

"Must have been one big generator. Or a very, very small base."

"Naquadah generators are small, but put out one hell of a lot of power. We use one now to power the base back on Earth, saves us several billion dollars a year on electricity. You can set a generator up on a TV tray, but blowing it will take out everything in a two mile radius. We have one here, Siler came through yesterday and got it set up for us so that we have all the power we need. Your tent has proper lighting and energy to run your monitors and the like, as well as a small heating system so we can keep the place warm at night. There's refrigeration for your medical supplies, and even a freezer here, though you have to share that with the cook… We have enough food here to keep us for a month, and I'm not talking MREs. I'm talking real, home-style meals; Donaldson, on SG-9, is our camp cook, and a damn good one. Any time we end up bringing out a group like this, he takes over the chow line. He's turned camp cookery into a work of art, believe me."

"Hope he's good with soups, that's what Daniel's going to need for a while," Abby told him as they came around a final bend and she got her first good look at the camp. Or, rather, what there was to be seen of the camp. They hadn't cut any sort of clearing around the mountain's edge, so much of it was lost in the trees. What she could see, though, were a half dozen, four man and two man tents set up among the trees, which would protect them from the sun and keep them out of sight of an aerial attack. A light wind going through the area helped to keep thing cool, and keep any insects at bay as well. There were no formal 'lines' to the tents, they were scattered haphazardly over the area, but as she got closer she could see signs that someone had done some homework.

Here and there, between the close trees, barriers had been put up to discourage anyone from coming into the camp area and giving it a more defined boundary. Not to mention something for defenders to hide behind if it came to trouble. She had no doubt that the area outside the camp was full of silent sensors that would alert the camp if anyone tried to approach them without being noticed. "You need a couple of guard dogs, Colonel," she suggested.

"It's been considered, but we have enough trouble keeping the teams from bringing something contagious back to the base," he pointed out. "Trying to be sure that a team dog didn't bring something back as well is a problem we're not quite ready to face yet." He smiled. "Everett's been with the SGC from the start, he could probably tell you some pretty amusing stories about some of the bugs that have come back with one team or another."

"Oh, yeah, I remember the 'touched' virus SG-1 brought back from the Land of Light," Everett agreed from ahead of them, shaking his head at the memory. "That one came in, and before we knew it, we had half the base coming down with it and turning into brutish Neanderthals. And it was only Dr Fraiser's second day on the job… A lot of people were looking mighty sheepish when things settled down again, 'conduct unbecoming an officer' doesn't even start to cover some of the things that went on. Not that it was anyone's fault, mind you. Fortunately, the cure was pretty simple."

"Oh?" Abby questioned, curious.

"Dr Fraiser turned out to be immune to a disease that easily transmitted by touch from very, very aggressive patients. For quite a while, so was Daniel. Fortunately, it turned out that the common factor was their high use of antihistamines, of all things. The bug lived off of high doses of histamines, so by putting everyone on allergy medication, we completely eradicated the disease."

"SG-1 run into things like that a lot?" Abby asked.

"They're our first contact team, if it's going to be found, they're usually the ones to find it," Reynolds pointed out.

"They can't be the only first contact team you've got. I understand there are more than twenty teams."

"Usually they're the first ones in," he replied. "Once in a while, if we know from other intel what's on a planet, some other team might be assigned, but usually it's SG-1 who has the dubious honor of first setting foot on new ground." Reaching up, he scratched his head. "My team is often a follow-up team, though, we're _usually_ having to go in to help them get out of some sticky situation or another. Or just providing general backup if there's reason to suspect that something maybe going on and another team is needed to watch their backs. Or hold a clear line of retreat to the Stargate. Now, the really fun team is SG-2. It's currently the only team that has more than four members, and its MO is to go in shooting as soon as they hit the gate. They're our extraction team, eight Marines, including a Marine medic and a demolitions specialist. They're the ones who go when we know that the mission has completely gone south and we're going to have to shoot another team out of a captive situation. They're gruff and tough, and we wouldn't trade them in for anything."

"So, there's only Air Force and Marines at the base then?"

"At the moment, yes. Far as I know, they've not gone looking for additional personnel from other branches of the military and the other branches have no idea, outside of the joint chiefs, of what's going on under the mountain."

"And if you were to get Navy or Army personnel assigned to the base?"

"They'd be welcome. The SGC is made up of the best of the best, and the smartest people our military has to offer, or can find to hire. It's also made up of free thinkers; it has to be, especially on the teams. They run into trouble, they usually don't have either the time or opportunity to call home and ask for orders, they have to get out on their own, and try to salvage the situation whenever possible. Now, we have some hard-asses, but the General knows who they are, and they usually don't get sent into a situation where they're going to run into other people. Unless it's Jaffa, of course, no offense meant to Teal'c. Some times it takes that hard-ass attitude to deal with even the Free Jaffa."

"Shaky relationship there?"

"A bit. I can understand where they're coming from, mind you. They just shook off slaving for the Goa'uld, they don't want to risk winding up in the same situation with us. Fortunately, out of all the commanding officers we could have gotten, we got General Hammond, who's as laid back as they come. And with Jack as his second, our relationship with the Free Jaffa isn't too strained, they're willing to _ask_, rather than just give orders."

They reached the main part of the camp at this point, and Abby looked around as more and more tents came into sight. "This is quite a comfortable set-up you have here, Colonel. Which one of these tent is mine?"

He pointed ahead of them to a large MASH style medical tent that was set up under several high trees. "Actually, we curtained you off an area in the medical tent, figured you'd want to stay close to your patient. Everett has a tent nearby, within easy calling distance."

Abby's reply was cut off by a low double hooting of a horn at the edge of camp. A pause came, then a second hooting as a red light started to flash. "Gate alert," he told her, motioning her to be quiet as he listened closely to the radio on his vest. "I read you, Teal'c," he stated into it after a long moment. "Welcome to Beta, and give my greetings to the General and Bra'tac as well. Follow the trail _behind_ the gate to reach the main camp."

Someone turned off the alarm as he signaled a stand down. "Well, General Carter is here, with Teal'c and Master Bra'tac. That should liven the place up a bit… Master Bra'tac is Teal's teacher, a very, very old Jaffa. I've heard it said he's somewhere around a hundred and thirty-five years old. Or older. At any rate, listening to him and the Colonel verbally spar is quite a hoot. But don't let his age fool you, he's very, very dangerous in a fight. I've seen him, he's a good guy to have on your side in a battle, and more than capable of taking down any man we have around here right now. Or even any three men on the site. Except maybe Teal'c or the General. I've never seen General Carter fight, so I don't know what level of training he's actually got."

They arrived at the medical tent, and several other men came forward to help lift the box and carry it inside, then lift Daniel out of it and to the waiting bed. The sick man roused a bit as they got him out of the box's narrow confines, and began coughing as they adjusted the bed and got pillows set to make him comfortable.

Abby kept the air mask on him for now, hoping they'd be able to switch later to a cannula after Jacob and Selmak were done. Once they had him as comfortable as possible, she set about hooking up the monitors, medication IV's and giving him a thorough going over. Listening to his lungs, she was concerned by what she was hearing. "Definitely turning into full blown pneumonia," she told Reynolds and Everett, who was just coming back from talking to a young captain outside the tent. "I've got him on IV antibiotics, but if we don't see some improvement, we may have no choice but to take him back to the SGC."

"Doc, you haven't explained yet why you brought him here to begin with," Reynolds pointed out.

"Someone tried to assassinate him last night," she told him, as others hovered nearby. "One of the SF's tried to kill him. And it wasn't someone new, it was someone who had been in the SGC for years according to what Jack told me before we left."

"Damn," Reynolds murmured. "All right. Doc, what do you need to make him as comfortable as possible?" he questioned. "Will this tent be all right? Or do you need something underground?"

"Fresh air and sunlight is a good thing here, I think," she told them, motioning to the opened, screened in front of the tent. "The sunshine out there is warm, as long as there isn't a cool breeze coming in, he should be fine."

She went through what Daniel would require over the next few days, and Reynolds made sure that everything would be just as she needed. A talk with the camp cook brought reassurances that soups would be kept fresh and hot over the fire at all times. Reynolds was waiting for some broth for Daniel when the three newcomers arrived, moving at a steady jog through the woods to the camp. The colonel gave them a nod and pointed them towards the larger tent, and they headed on to see how things were going.

Abby looked up from her patient as the three men entered, recognizing two of them right off and giving the third a curious glance before turning to Jacob Carter, who wasn't slowing down a bit as he headed for the blanket-wrapped Daniel. "I am definitely glad to see you," she told him with a deep sigh. "That upper respiratory infection has definitely turned into pneumonia."

He nodded, taking the seat waiting for him and digging into his pack for the small healing device he carried with him. "Sel and I were afraid of that," he admitted. "We didn't like the sound of his breathing last night, but there just wasn't the time to deal with it right then, and we didn't have the energy." Sliding the device over his right hand, he brought it up and over Daniel's chest, closing his eyes as he and Selmak activated it, first making sure that all the poison really was out of Daniel's system, then going to work on loosening up the congestion in his lungs.

Asleep or unconscious, Daniel still grimaced uncomfortably as he shifted on the bed, almost wincing in pain as the beam ran slowly over his chest. Abby quickly raised the railing on the bedside opposite where Jacob was sitting, the last thing they needed was him rolling off the bed.

Everett, watching from the side of the tent, frowned. "He's had seizures before," he warned them softly. "When Major Carter tried to use the healing device on him, for the radiation poisoning, it triggered a seizure instead."

Abby nodded, frowning. "Get two CC's of Valium," she directed. "Let's head this off before it starts…"

Jacob frowned, then closed his eyes. _He's right, Daniel's building up towards a seizure,_ he told Selmak. _We've only had to heal him twice before, and we didn't have a problem either time. But I've never seen this happen when we've healed anyone else._

_**:It's a rare reaction:** _Selmak replied privately as Everett injected the drug into the IV port**_. :This Valium, what will it do:_**

"Doc, Selmak needs info on the drug," Jacob murmured.

"Valium is a muscle relaxant," Abby explained. "It will keep him limp so that his body can't seize up on us."

Jacob nodded, his attention turning back to what they were doing. At this point, it seemed that the last of the poison was out of his system, and the congestion in his lungs wasn't quite as bad, but Selmak hastened to warn him that there was still a great deal to do. And they couldn't just do it all at once.

Turning off the hand device, Jacob drew back and reached to draw up the railing on his side of the bed as Abby checked Daniel's lungs, listening to them carefully as she studied the monitors. "It's a good start," he told her, "but we're by no means done. He's got a long way to go."

"Definitely sounding better there than he did," Abby told him, drawing back and putting the stethoscope in her pocket. "I think you got things loose enough that cough will start being a lot more productive. We still need to watch him for fever and any signs of renewed congestion. Not to mention his heart…"

"The poison is completely out of his system now, we checked for that first off," Jacob assured her. "With it gone, he shouldn't have any more heart attacks unless his system comes under a major strain before we can fix some of the damage. He does need to start getting up and moving around in the next day or two, however. Even if it's just to get out of bed to go to the pot you got back there, or out to a chair to sit in the sunshine for a while. The weather here is fantastic this time of the year from the report I read on the place this morning, so we should probably get him out into it. It's time for him to start working on that tan again, he's been in the mountain way too much."

"Indeed," Teal'c stated, watching with Bra'tac from near the tent's door. "I have heard O'Neill complaining much of late about how much time DanielJackson and Major Carter have spend in their labs. Her recent trip to Chicago to speak to Sarah Gardner has been her only major excursion from the base in some time, as the archeology trip had been for DanielJackson."

"Yeah, Jack told me last night they were spending more time in the mountain than out of it these days. Both of them are doing eighteen-hour days unless George orders them out of the mountain for a rest. Even then, they're probably taking work home with them."

"They're both working themselves into the ground, then," Abby stated. "I barely had a chance to meet Major Carter before she left, but Daniel here is definitely exhausted, even without taking into account the poisoning. But what are they working so hard to do? My education on the SGC is still in the works, but growing, thanks to Colonel Reynolds."

"Anubis," Teal'c stated, growing graver than usual. "Both have been seeking ways to defeat him, and information that might lead to allies that will help us to fight him." He exchanged looks with the older Jaffa beside him. "Doctor Abigail Sinclair, this is Master Bra'tac, one of the oldest of the Jaffa and my teacher for many, many years."

Abby gave the old Jaffa a nod of greeting as Jacob explained further. "Master Bra'tac was kind enough to take a message back to the Tok'ra base for me, since Selmak and I can't go back there for a while. Although I was rather surprised when he came back with us to this base…" He gave the older Jaffa a curious look, waiting for an explanation.

"Things are going well for the Jaffa rebellion, I thought that perhaps my assistance could be of use here, when DanielJackson is again on his feet. He will need to regain his strength and stamina if he is to return to the field of combat. His duties with the Tau'ri will keep Teal'c away, and so I thought I could help."

"Selmak and I will be staying until he's recovered enough to go home," Jacob told him. "But I wouldn't mind the company. We're going to have to be careful not to push him too fast, too far. He's not a Jaffa, after all."

"This I know, but still, he is young. If pushed correctly, his body will respond by growing stronger, will it not?" he pointed out, looking from Jacob to Abby and back again.

Jacob nodded. "Once we have the damaged fully healed, which will take about a week, then yes, we could start him on a serious exercise plan to bring him back up to full strength." He held up his hand to forestall Abby's protest. "Between Bra'tac, Selmak and myself, Selmak assures me that we should have him back to his former self, with little signs of damage, in about a month."

"Safely?" Abby asked, her tone doubtful. "I mean, granted, you folks deal with technology far beyond anything I've ever heard of, but still, that seems way too soon for me. The condition he's in right now, I would have thought it would take at least six months to get him going again."

Bra'tac gave her a patient smile. "You will see much, then, of 'alien' tech before we are done," he told her, then turned to Jacob. "I will return in seven days time," he stated. "We will start with walking, then, traveling in growing distances around this encampment. You will have him ready?"

Jacob bowed his head, startling Abby into taking two swift steps back as he gave control to Selmak. **_"Indeed, old man, he should be on his feet by then,"_** the Tok'ra assured him. **_"And knowing him as we do, you will either find a very reluctant student, or one most anxious to follow your teachings to return to his friends."_**

Bra'tac agreement. "I doubt it will be the first, and look forward to teaching the second. For now, I will be off, to make sure my affairs are settled for the time I will be gone," he stated, then turned and went out, Teal'c following behind him.

Jacob turned back to Abby, noticed her wide eyes, and smiled. **_"I am sorry to have so startled you, doctor,"_** Selmak stated. **_"I am Selmak, of the Tok'ra, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."_**

"Your… voice..," she murmured, still a bit alarmed at the double tone. Her eyes went wider as his head dipped, then his smile changed to the more wry look she remembered from Jacob.

"Sorry about that," Jacob told her. "Selmak is good about letting me speak most of the time, she knows I don't like the idea of giving up control for long. We both forgot that you're new to this, and not familiar with the idea of a symbiote."

"It's very strange, listening to your voice like that. It's like hearing two voices at once," she admitted, taking another seat beside her patient. Daniel had relaxed again, and was sleeping peacefully, his breathing more than a little easier. Making a decision, she changed the mask over to an air cannula, so he's had an easier time coughing up the congestion when he woke. "He'll hopefully sleep for a few hours."

"Selmak's pretty sure that he will, unless we want to wake him up soon to get some broth or tea into him," Jacob told her. "This is actually the hard way to cure this, a symbiote would be able to heal him up in days. But there's no way in the world I'd even suggest such a thing to him. He's got good reason not to go for that idea, even if the Tok'ra had someone willing to do it."

Abby nodded. "They told me about what happened to his wife, and other people he's been close to. From what I've heard, he's had a very tragic life. But what about yourself, General?" she questioned. "How did you get introduced into this 'fantasy'?"

"Call me Jacob, I was retired long before I got dragged in to take in Selmak as an upstairs boarder," he told her, grinning as he tapped his temple. "Though, actually, she's more entwined around my spinal cord than really in my head."

"'She'?" Abby asked.

"Well, her last host was a woman, so I tend to think of Selmak as being a 'she'," he explained. "She hadn't had a male host in a long, long time. Now, in actuality, she's neither a he or a she, but that's beside the point. The only one to ever make a comment on the subject was Jack, and he shut up when he was reminded that I outrank him."

Abby chuckled. "He's loosened up a lot since I knew him ten years ago," she told him. "He's nowhere near as grim as he used to be."

"Oh, no, he's not grim at all, and he's definitely got a knack of pissing off the System Lords. Usually right before SG-1 kills them off."

"Sounds like you have some good stories you could tell."

"Oh, I have some doozies," he agreed. "Let me tell you about the first time I went through that gate, and met Selmak, though. Give you a little insight about the Tok'ra, and how they're different from the Goa'uld."

Abby got comfortable and set about to listen eagerly. She had a lot to learn, and wanted to definitely know more…

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Colonel O'Neill was just finishing his outline for 'housekeeping' with General Hammond when Harriman's voice came over the intercom, echoing through the halls. "Colonel O'Neill, Major Samantha Carter and Dr. Janet Frazier, please report to the gate room at the ready."

O'Neill sighed, flipped close the manila folder on his desk, his face solemn as he rose to his feet. Hammond rose from his own chair, giving O'Neill a concerned look. "You all right? The next few days are going to rocky for everyone, but you're right in the heart of this mess, Jack."

He gave Hammond a quick nod. "As 'all right' as I ever will be after today." He pushed the folder towards the general. Hammond took it, putting it under his arm. It contained information that they couldn't discuss out in the open, at least not until SGC was cleared of bugs and other listening devices. They had to be extremely careful and in some cases, overly guarded, in making sure they didn't tip off the people they were up against too soon.

O'Neill showed the general out the door of his own office, then locked it securely behind him. He gave Hammond a nod of his head and headed towards the gate room at a quickened pace while Hammond went the opposite direction, folder in hand. They were sure that the General's office was bugged, but a good, thorough check had revealed that O'Neill's office was clear, giving them a place where they could at least speak and go over things in hushed whispers. And he wanted to keep it that way.

Shouldering his heavy pack, O'Neill snapped the clips into place, then headed for the Gate room, making sure that he had what was needed. The gate was engaged already when he arrived, and he picked up his waiting P-90 from one of the guards before trading nods with Walter and heading through. The women would follow him in a bit, and he needed to be ready for them.

Carter scurried into the women's locker room, quickly turning the combination on her locker and flipping it open. Behind her, she heard Janet coming in and was ready when the big medical pack hit the bench behind her. "You know what's going on?" Janet asked, taking off her lab coat and tossing it aside into a nearby hamper. After opening her locker, the haggard doctor slipped off her shoes, tossing them in the bottom with little care for their shine. She shed blouse and skirt, reaching now for the black t-shirt and pre-loaded olive green cargo pants nearly identical to the ones Carter wore in the field. The field jacket followed, she'd get her tack vest when she got her weapons in the gate room.

"Not a clue," Carter replied, slightly hurried as she slipped on her boots having changed out of her own blue base uniform. "We've had some hostile activity on several worlds, but who knows? Could be one of a dozen situations, there's a lot of teams out right now. We'll know when we get there."

"I was hoping to get out of here…early…after today," Janet sighed, fiddling with her zipper. She put her hands down in defeat, her shoulders sagging as her eyes welled up. "I'm still trying to figure out what to tell Cassie when I get home."

Hearing Janet's tone, Carter stopped tying her boot and came over to her, her own voice tight in her throat. "Easy, Janet," the major put a hand on her friend's shoulder, giving it a comforting clasp.

"Dammit, Sam! I wish . . ." Janet's voice echoed in the locker room. "I wish that I could have seen that assassin coming. I just wish I had been able to take him down." Her fists clenched at her side. "If I had seen him . . . maybe . . ."

"Don't think about that, Janet," Carter told her. "It's not your fault. I'm just glad that. . that you're all right. He could have killed you.

"What am I going to tell Cassie?" Janet looked up into her friend's eyes. "She loved Daniel and he always made time for her, making her feel like part of the family here. The games of logic and trivia, each of them trying to outdo the other over ice cream or a rental movie; I don't know how many times Daniel lost to her. But . . .I think he did it deliberately." She let out a sigh. "It all seems like a blur. And we've been down this same road so many, many times."

Carter reached down and zipped Janet's jacket the rest of the way, then picked up her boots from the bottom of the locker. "Here," she told her. "We have to go."

Janet took the boots and sat down, slipping them on and tying them quickly. She adjusted her utility belt on her waist, making sure she had her knife and weapons holster in place and strapped down to her thigh.

Carter shrugged into her vest, then buckled on her own utility belt and holsters. She waited until Janet slung the large med kit over her shoulder, then both women headed out of the lockers towards the gate room.

When they entered, Harriman gave them a quick briefing from the control area while the SF's armed them up with pistols, Zats and Carter's P-90. "SG-17 was investigating some ruins when they came under heavy fire. Two of them took a hit, including their medic. Colonel O'Neill has gone ahead to help secure the area. Once he gives us the all clear, then we'll send you in. He should be messaging us fairly soon."

It didn't take long for O'Neill's message to come through on one of the MALP's audio communications link. "We're secured here for the time being. Send Carter and Fraiser through. Now," he ordered, the sounds of sporadic gunfire in the background. "We've got casualties."

Harriman quickly unlocked the iris, the heavy, gray metal shield spiraling back, revealing the blue, water like entrance to the wormhole.

Swiftly, Carter and Janet mounted the ramp, Carter taking up a protective position in front of Dr. Frazier, her P-90 in hand, ready for their arrival on the planet. Both women stepped through, the familiar coldness enveloping them like a form fitting glove.

Seconds later, they were standing in front of the gate, an open field before them. The sky above was bluish and the air a crisp coldness that nearly matched the coldness from the wormhole.

"Stand down," Colonel O'Neill's voice drew the women's attention as the gate disengaged behind them. O'Neill was standing off to one side of the gate, near the small staircase ramp that led down onto a grassy path. The MALP was parked in front of him.

Carter looked around. There was no sign of any scrimmage had occurred, no sign of another team and no sign of anyone being hurt. In fact, the place looked rather on the untamed side, with no sign of civilization. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Sir?" she asked, unsure of the situation. Janet looked equally puzzled.

"Ladies," O'Neill said, indicating the stairs down. "We need to talk."

They walked down the ramp, Carter lowering her gun as she spoke. "Harriman said that it was urgent, that SG-17 was taking some . . ."

O'Neill put his hand up, stopping her. "Like I said, we need to talk. Things aren't as they seem."

"I can see that," Janet said, her tone flat. Obviously there wasn't a firefight here, and she was annoyed at being dragged off the base for nothing

"We heard gun fire when you called us," Carter told him, her tone matching Janet's in the annoyance factor as she moved her P-90 into a safe carry position.

O'Neill produced a small recorder from his pocket without looking up as he dialed in another set of coordinates on the DHD. "Amazing what Walter can come up with in a pinch. Fortunately, we have plenty of security footage from other emergency calls for him to pull gun and staff fire from."

The gate activated, the blue kwoosh slicing through the air, then pulling back to form the entrance into the wormhole. "Let's go," O'Neill told them and headed back towards the gate.

Janet looked at Carter, shaking her head as she followed O'Neill through the wormhole. Carter followed as well, wondering where the hell they were going now.

She had her answer as soon as they came through.

They were all standing in a wooded site, guards arrayed in front of them, and O'Neill was looking rather nervous. "Welcome to the Beta site," he said, his tone like that of a real estate agent as he gestured around him.

"What are we doing here?" Janet asked, shifting the bag across her shoulders to ease the tension that was building in her back. She had been prepared to deal with casualties, and her emotions had been running high since the funeral. One of the guards moved to take the pack from her, easily carrying it off while the other two guards remained behind to watch the gate.

Jack looked at them both as they joined him, and he followed the guard around the gate. "I owe you ladies both a big apology and then some," he told them, turning towards the dirt path that lead through a copse of evergreen trees. He took in a deep breath, his hands behind his back as he walked. "As you know, things at the SGC aren't secure. We have a leak somewhere and, to be honest, it's not the place to talk at the moment, hence the little ruse to get you here where we could talk in private."

"Security has been doing sweeps, looking for bugs and, not to mention, viruses in the computer system," Carter said. "I've done my own looking around, double checking everything."

"It's not going to be enough, and the General right now is stepping up the sweeps. We've also asked the Tok'ra for help, hopefully they'll loan us a Za'tarc detector. That assassin last night is a good indicator that all of our 'sweeping' hasn't done a whole lot of good so far," Jack told her, ambling up the path past the hidden sandbag shelters. The gunners nodded to the group on their way through to the main camp. "If we couldn't even protect Daniel, then the base is just not a safe place anymore. That assassin wasn't just someone that was recently hired; that guy's been working here for the last five years. It's a case of the old adage, 'trust no one', and at the moment, he's not saying too much, he thinks there's still people on the base that could get _him_ if he talks."

"Any idea of who sent him?" Carter asked.

"I suspected the rogue NID from start, and he's told us enough to know we're right about that. They've done it before and it wouldn't be beneath them to try something like this again. However, the real question is what's their motive for doing what they did? We don't have the answer to that one. Yet."

Carter thought about it, remembering the incidents in the past with the NID. And what had motivated those confrontations. "They've wanted to get their hands on Daniel ever since he came back from the Ancients."

"Well, that failed," Jack told them, hands deep in his pockets as they continued on the trail towards the base camp. The land about them was wooded, but with some spectacular boulders around that indicated past ice field activity. If you knew anything about rocks, glacier scaring was hard to miss.

"What about Area 51?" Carter speculated. "I mean, they're always trying to get their hands on the artifacts that have gone through there and having Daniel out of the way might give them an edge. There's a lot of stuff that he's held back that has turned out to be of major importance to us later on. And the whole idea of this site is to keep things in the SGC hands instead of turning it in to Area 51."

"You don't think they would go so far as to killing Daniel?" Janet's shocked voice interrupted them. "Surely not just to get their hands on some artifacts..."

"Janet, it's the rogue NID we're talking about. They'll do _anything,_ including selling their own mothers to the highest bidder," Jack said. "We really don't know if taking out Daniel was their intention or if something much, much bigger is going down.

"You mean like a diversion," Carter surmised.

"I wouldn't put them past them," Jack replied. "Or someone's got a grudge and wants him out of their way."

"They'd have to know that even if Daniel was gone, we would create the Beta site," Carter said, gesturing around at the campsite as they finally came into sight of it. "That can't have been their only goal if it's part of it."

"No, I don't think so either," O'Neill confirmed. "But things are missing and so are people. I had Reynolds make some calls before he came here, and he told me that in the last three months, five shipments from the mountain to Area 51 have gone missing. In two of those cases, the couriers were found dead while the others have completely disappeared off the planet. No clue if they decided that the other side had a better benefit package and signed on, or if they're just dead and we haven't found the bodies yet. Some of the NID have disappeared as well, but we're not sure if they joined the rogue element, got killed for knowing too much or are out on an assignment." Jack looked troubled. "And to be honest, it might not even be the NID. It might be half a dozen rogue groups out there, each with their own agenda. But how they got into the SGC is something we need to figure out and fast. Or others are going to be taken out." He kept his voice even, knowing that the ladies had been under quite the stress in the last 24 hours. And this wasn't very easy for him, either.

Janet shook her head. "I . . .I just can't believe they . . . went this far . . . " she said as they walked towards one of the tents in the center of camp. It was the medical tent, far larger than any of the others scattered under the trees.

O'Neill's tone suddenly turned a little amused. "Well, contrary to the day's events, there is one thing that the NID did _not_ succeed in doing, but we had to make them think they did," he told them, opening the door to the medical tent and holding it for the pair to enter. There, no more than ten feet from the doorway, was Daniel, lying in a hospital bed. He was asleep and Abby was checking his vitals. The doctor looked up, smiling.

Janet felt her chest tighten, the tears spilling on her cheeks. She thought they had buried her friend only that morning. And yet here he was, alive, and looking better than he had when she'd last seen him. She turned on O'Neill, her angry eyes promising retribution. "Damn you!"

O'Neill had half expected to be slapped, but he was pleased with just being chewed out. He had been agonizing over this the whole morning, and knew both women had needed to know the truth as soon as possible.

Carter looked at the colonel and knew what had happened. She took Janet by the shoulder. "Go to him," she told her. "Go on."

Janet gave Jack a death-glare. "Why didn't you tell me…tell us?"

"Janet, not here," Carter soothed, trying to get Janet calmed down. "Later. Right now, go see him."

Janet gave up her quest for answers, turning towards Daniel in the bed. Abby smiled and lowered one of the railings so that Janet could sit down on the edge of the bed and better see her lost friend.

Carter watched her go, then turned to the colonel. "You want to talk?"

He motioned to the door, watching Janet out of the corner of his eye. Abby was defusing the situation quickly, intervening by telling Janet about Daniel's current condition.

Leaving the tent, Carter fell into step beside him. She was mad as well, but O'Neill had his reasons for doing the things he did and usually, they were pretty damn good ones. And she wanted to hear them now. "What happened?" Carter asked him when they were some distance away from the medical tent.

"As I said, I owe you and Janet a big apology and then some. We came up with this plan on the spur of the moment, and let's just say that the assassin actually helped us out. While he was struggling with Abby, his foot got tangled up in some of the monitoring equipment and pulled a patch loose on Daniel's chest. With all the rushing around and subduing the assassin, Abby didn't realize it at first when she got things back online. The nurses came down, hearing the call from the other room and everything was in a panic, everyone thinking that Daniel's heart had stopped. They were grabbing stethoscopes and Abby went for those electric paddle thingies before they finally figured out that he was fine, only unconscious. Then the idea struck Abby that for all intents and purposes, Daniel was 'dead', so why not let everyone keep thinking that," Jack told her, then ran his fingers through his short cropped, salt and pepper hair. "The hardest thing was going to convince everyone that this was the case, but the funeral idea worked pretty good, and we did manage to get him off the base without anyone catching on. It was my idea not to tell any of you because, Carter, we needed genuine grief in order for this to pay off, we knew the NID, if they found out, would want his body for study. Siler and Walter knew as well since they had to help set it up, Siler put together the box used to carry him here." He sighed. "I knew that this was going to be hard on you, especially for Janet and don't think for a minute that I didn't agonize over not telling you. I wanted to so badly, but with security being the way it is at the SGC at the moment, I couldn't risk this being blown wide open."

"I don't know if Janet can forgive you," Carter told him after consideration. "I understand what you did and why you did it, but her? She's been fretting about what to tell Cassie when she gets home. You should have seen her in the locker room before we came."

"I know and that's been another big worry. I know how close Daniel and Cassie were. . er. . . are," he told her. "I expect that my next exam is going to be one of those uncomfortable ones." He fidgeted as he walked with Carter. "I'll just make sure that I have a nice, soft cushion afterwards."

"I take it that Abby's transfer went through," Carter stated, changing the subject after noting Jack's uneasy stance.

"Yes, her transfer came through and Hammond signed her on. Everett's here, on site, to help get her acquainted with off world life and the Stargate program. She only had a smidgeon of information before signing on, and there's a lot of our history for her to learn. However, she's a quick study, and I'm sure that Daniel will help her along as he recovers. He's just chock full of info as we well know. She'll do just fine."

"Daniel looked a lot better than I expected him to," she admitted. "Not so gray."

"Sel and I had a bit to do with that one," came her father's voice from a nearby tent, and a moment later Jacob came out to join them, giving his daughter a welcome hug. "Jack probably didn't tell you that we came through last night just in time to help subdue the assassin," he told her after a moment, stepping back to face her with a smile, his eyes gleaming with good humor as O'Neill shifted his feet, looking innocently up at the sky.

"No, he didn't," she replied, giving her CO another glare. "I'm delighted to see you, but a bit surprised too. How long will you be staying?"

"Oh, probably for some time. In fact, I think George is going to talk to the powers that be about my taking up command here at the Beta Site. At least for the first year or two until the place is well established and the base commander is fully trained."

"A…?" she stuttered, flabbergasted. "You're staying _here_? And the council is going to _let_ you?"

"We've left the Tok'ra, Sam," Jacob told her, his expression sobering up now to one of sad disappointment. "I actually didn't get your message about Daniel, didn't know what was happening until I showed up at the SGC the middle of last night. Sel and I got back to base from our last mission yesterday evening and was told that the Council wanted to talk to us immediately, and most of the base was acting guilty and trying to avoid us. We get to the council chambers to find that they've brought in a pretty little thing that's probably never handled a weapon in her life, and we're informed that Sel is to leave me and take _her_ as her new host."

"Oh, my God… What did you do?" she asked, dismayed. Selmak had been so good for her father, to think of the pair spliting up…

Jacob dipped his head and let Selmak answer her herself. **_"I told them to go take a long walk off a short pier, and left while they were trying to figure out what I meant,"_** Selmak replied**_. "Malek and Garshaw were against the Council's move to separate us, and Malek helped us to get past the guards to gate back to Earth."_**

"They came through just in time for Jacob and I to reach the med bay as Abby sounded the alert about the assassin," O'Neill stated. "They took care of getting the last of the poison out of Danny last night, then left with Teal'c just after the group came here early this morning."

"**_Given that certain members of your government would like to do what the Council attempted to do last night, Jacob, Colonel O'Neill and I decided that taking up residence here would be a far wiser move than attempting to live peacefully on Earth,"_** Selmak explained**_. "At the moment, we're aiding Dr Sinclair with Dr Jackson's illness. He is currently suffering from an upper respiratory illness, and we will help to deal with it and the lasting effects of the poisoning over a period of several days. "_**

Jacob took control back again. "We caught up with Bra'tac and sent him to talk to Malek about getting a Za'tarc detector sent to earth, then came here. Bra'tac will be back in a week, and together we'll work on getting Danny back on his feet and up to strength again." He smiled. "In the meantime, this means that I'll be here any time you want to come see me."

O'Neill hung back as the two of them continued to stroll, talking quietly as they left him behind. Smiling to himself, he turned back towards the medical tent, wanting to see for himself how Daniel was really doing.

When he arrived, he found that Janet had shed vest, utility belt and jacket and was sitting beside Daniel's bed, rubbing his back as he slept. They had him off the air mask, which was definitely an improvement, and Carter was right, he wasn't as gray as he had been the night before.

Abby saw him come in, spoke softly to Janet, then moved to join him at the doorway. "He's already doing a lot better than I expected," she assured him. "The congestion is breaking up, and he's breathing easier and with less strain. His heartbeat is stronger as well."

"Told you Jacob and Selmak could really help him," O'Neill pointed out, looking relieved. "What's the prospect of a full recovery?"

"A hundred percent. They assure me there's nothing wrong with Daniel they can't take care of." Abby shook her head. "Wish I had a pair like them back at the hospital. To be able to heal my patients like this all the time…"

"Can't do it," he told her, shaking his head. "Besides the nature of our work being so classified, people would be terrified of the idea of an 'alien' even living on the planet. And I'm not talking about the average, everyday person who doesn't know what we do for a living, I'm talking about people who _do_ know about the SGC. You wouldn't believe how much hell we've gone through keep Teal'c safe over the years, and they still won't even consider letting him live off the base. He's restricted to the base unless one of us go with him."

"After all these years, he's essentially still a prisoner then?" Abby asked, appalled.

"Yep. You know, I figure the average Joe, if they knew what he had done to help our world, they'd say, 'sure, let the guy live a little, he's proven himself.' But our government, who says they're so for the freedoms of the people, won't let him step foot out of that mountain without an escort… How's that for ironic?"

"As far as irony goes, it stinks," Abby admitted, patted him on the shoulder, and went back to work.

O'Neill couldn't have agreed more.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

About twenty minutes after seeing Colonel O'Neill leaving with Carter and Dr Fraiser, Hammond was getting his first report on uncovered listening devices from Siler when the Stargate came to life, setting off the alarms all through the base.

"We're getting the Tok'ra IDC," Walter stated as it stabilized, reaching off to his side. "Opening the iris."

Two figures came through, carrying a case between them, and Hammond headed down the stairs to the Gate room to greet Garshaw and Malek with more good will than they were going to show any of the other Tok'ra for a while. Hammond's smile was warm as he faced them "It's good to see you, Councilor, Malek."

Garshaw gave him a regal nod of her head. **_"And it's a pleasure to see you again as well, General,"_** she told him. **_"We received Jacob's message, and here is the Za'tarc detector he asked us to deliver to you. Is Jacob here, though?"_** she questioned.

"We haven't seen him since he went through the gate this morning," Hammond told her.

"**_Good, that means if he's not here, we can't follow through on the rest of the council's demands that he return Selmak as swiftly as possible,"_** she told them, looking quite amused. **_"They were quite angry over his supposed 'kidnapping' of our eldest."_**

"Kidnapping?" Hammond asked, caught by surprise at the charge. "What happened? Jacob was here and gone before I arrived at the mountain this morning."

"**_Most of the council, Councilor Garshaw here being the only dissenting vote, have decided that Selmak is being 'misled and misguided' by her Tau'ri host, and set about procuring a new host for her, one that would be suitably subservient and not lead her to taking wild views that are completely opposite what the Council would wish." _**Malek explained dryly

"**_Actually, it was quite amusing when Selmak told the Council they could take their ideas for a 'long walk off a short pier',"_** Garshaw admitted with a smile. **_"Yosuuf is from a water world much like your earth, so she was quickly able to show me what Selmac meant, but most of the council is from desert worlds, and they were quite confused for a time. It was very… refreshing… seeing them so put out…"_**

"**_And fortunately, I was able to help them get out of there by the time the rest of the Council had finally worked things out and sent guards to stop their leaving,"_** Malek told them.

"**_Formally, I have to ask that you return our ambassador as soon as possible,"_** Garshaw stated. **_"Personally, I hope to see the pair some time soon, but not anywhere where the Council or their guards can find them. I rather think that Jacob has been good for Selmak, and vice-versa."_**

"I don't understand why they would want to break them up?" Hammond questioned, frowning with concern and confusion.

"_**For the last two thousand years, the only hosts that the Tok'ra have taken have all been from Goa'uld occupied worlds, so all of those hosts have been more… subservient. You Tau'ri, however, have not been beaten down by the yoke of Goa'uld oppression, so you're strong willed, and aggressive. This, the Council decided, makes you very bad hosts. The fact that they are usually talking to Jacob, rather than Selmak, is almost considered scandalous to them. Usually the host would only be urged to take that much control if the pairing were on assignment in human territories."**_

Garshaw dipped her head, and when she spoke again, it was in Yosuuf's more hesitant voice. "You have to understand, while we are given the choice to join with a Tok'ra, and accept that choice gladly, none of us ever come with the sort of experience needed to do the work that the Tok'ra do. So, we give up control to our symbiote's 'hands', as it were, for our mutual protection."

Hammond looked thoughtful, considering this, then began to look a bit more enlightened. "Jacob was special ops for a while, though," he stated. "He knows the ins and outs of doing covert operations, and techniques that the Tok'ra have never thought to employ."

"Yes, and this is a difference that the Tok'ra Council finds very… disquieting… They don't like disruption, and they don't like change. Jacob and Selmak have brought both," Yosuuf admitted.

"So they're hoping by kicking Jacob out, they'll get the old Selmak back and things will go back to the way they were."

"I'm afraid so," Yosuuf admitted. "And they wouldn't even think about how many new things that Jacob has taught Selmak that would help our cause. They simply can't accept change."

Dipping her head again, Garshaw took over the conversation once more. **_"As I said, formally, I must demand that Jacob be returned to us immediately so that Selmak can take a new host, and he will then be returned to you, unharmed. Informally, and completely 'off the record' as you say, I wish them both a happy life, and I hope to hear very many more curses about how they've disrupted one Tok'ra plan or another. The two of them, together, have forced us to take actions that we hadn't planned to take for several hundred years in the future, but have worked most effectively when taken now."_**

"I hope you'll forgive my saying this, but you Tok'ra have been taking things too damn slow," Hammond stated. "While you take your little, careful steps, the rest of the galaxy has been suffering two thousand years of oppression. If you'd been more aggressive in the beginning, who knows what those 'primitive' worlds would be like now."

"**_Very true, I'm afraid, but you know our reasons,"_** Garshaw pointed out, her tone and look one of patience and understanding. **_"Our numbers are limited, and we can't replace those agents we lose, so we must be slow, and careful to preserve our kind."_**

"Yes, we are aware of concerns from the Council about that," he acknowledged. "At any rate, the pair are somewhere very safe right now, and steps have been taken to safeguard Selmak from anyone in our own government who might desire to do something… unfortunate… so don't worry about them, they'll be just fine."

Garshaw nodded in agreement. **_"We must be going,"_** she told them, as Malek finished explaining to Siler how to run the Za'tarc detector. **_"The council is still in an uproar, and I don't believe it would be a good thing to let them discover what we brought you today. I just hope that it's some help to you."_**

"We've got our own loyalty problems right now," the General admitted. "This should help root them out so we can really start dealing with the bigger problems. Like stopping a branch of our own government from taking over."

Garshaw frowned. **_"I thought that your government supported the SGC and its endeavors?"_** she questioned.

"Officially, it does," Hammond told her. "But there are certain people who believe it would be more advantageous if _they_ were running things, rather than us. Unfortunately, some of them are high government officials, and this makes things a bit difficult to deal with."

The two Tok'ra exchanged looks, then gave him sympathetic smiles. **_"Good luck,"_** Malek told them. **_"I think the Councilor knows exactly how you feel, and I know I do."_**

"Yes, it's probably the same sort of thing," Hammond admitted, signaling the control room to start dialing out. "Good luck to you."

"**_And to you as well,"_** Garshaw told them, watching the Stargate engage and heading home, Malek on her heels.

Once they were gone, Hammond turned his attention to Siler. "Is Major Carter's lab clear?" he asked him softly.

"Just finished it personally, sir. There were four," the mechanic told him. "It's clear now, though, and under camera if anyone tries to go in there. Plus I have an alarm on the door. I'll be doing Dr. Jackson's office next, but that's going to take a fair bit of time."

Hammond nodded, pleased with his innovations. "Hold off on that for now, and get that thing set up ASAP," he ordered. "I hate to think we have to do loyalty tests on our own people, but it's definitely starting to look that way now…"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well, how did things go? Is the body on the way to Area 51?" one of the men asked the new arrivals.

"No, they knew we'd be coming and O'Neill took it onto himself to make sure we'd never get the body. Some line of bull about Jackson having so much interest in Tok'ra funerals, they gave _him_ one. Destroyed the body in the backwash of the activating gate, completely disintegrated it."

"Damn, I was really looking forward to taking that guy apart," another stated, clearly disappointed. "All that research work, gone before I could even get it started. Fraiser clearly was hiding things in the reports she did after he 'descended' last year, there's no way the guy could have gone through what he did without being changed."

The first man held up his hand, though, cutting in. "Did anyone actually see his body?" he asked.

"No, they brought him in in a coffin," was the reply.

"So, in other words, that box could have held anyone, or been completely empty for all anyone knew?"

There was a pause. "Yeah, that's possible. But Carter and Fraiser were upset, as were a lot of others. Wouldn't they have known if he was still alive? Particularly Fraiser? And where would they have taken him?"

A fourth man spoke up. "He's offworld, I bet," he stated, joining the conversation. "Well away from anyone who we could slip in to try to finish him off. And if they could find someone who could counter that poison, either a Tok'ra or a Jaffa, they could keep him alive. Heal him. And bring him back, which would put our plan out of action."

"Yeah, which means your man wouldn't be called back to the SGC," the scientist stated, looking at the first man, the one they were all answering to. "We need Jackson _dead_, and we need to be sure he stays that way this time."

"Problem is, if he's off world, we can't touch him," the inside man stated. "We don't have anyone left on the inside, and I'm pretty sure the SF we had in there has likely told them everything he knows about us. I'm just glad he didn't know me, and I'm not on the list they have so far."

"This isn't going at all the way we thought it would," the first man stated, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers thoughtfully as he considered his options. "What about the bugs? They still in place?"

The inside man shook his head. "They're looking for them, actively looking for them, and finding them one by one. By the end of the day, at this rate, they'll have them all."

"Damn, that means we got no way of telling what they're doing next."

"No way at all. We knew it was a matter of time before they figured out what was happening, and started shutting us out. We're lucky to have gotten away with as much as we have."

There was a heavy sigh. "True. Well, do you have any good news at all?"

"One little bit. I think Kinsey said just the right things that they may believe he's behind all this. And he's putting together a list of people that he wants to see working at the SGC."

"Oh, that's promising," the first man mused. "Any way we can get a copy of that list? Or get some of our contacts onto it?"

"I'll see what I can do, but no guarantees. Kinsey's a first class rat ass bastard, and he don't do anything for anyone it if won't benefit him as well."

"Last thing I heard, he was still pissed off over Hammond blocking his bid to get the world leaders to support the NID taking over the SGC," the scientist stated, joining the conversation. "They took that alien at his word, hook, line and sinker, and caved right in to his wishes."

"The Asgard have a way of doing that," another man agreed with a shudder. "Freaky looking things. And damn stingy with their tech, too."

"Well, stingy with us, at least," the first man stated. "Thor's given a lot to the SGC, but it's in their hands, not ours, and they've taken great pains to keep it that way." He considered his next orders carefully. "Okay, we need to get more people in place in the SGC," he stated. "We especially need to be sure that it's our man in Washington who gets recalled to replace Jackson if he _didn't_ survive the attack and is actually dead."

"Carter had to be called back from some place in Chicago, I heard that from one of the pilots when we came into Peterson, we had to hold waiting for her flight to land," one of the newcomers stated. "If so, it's possible that they're talking to Dr Gardner about hiring on some of her students from up there. Now, Gardner won't come herself, she's made it clear to the SGC and the NID she _won't _consider working for them, but if she's got some prized students that she can get jobs in the project, she probably wouldn't hesitate. And they _wouldn't_ be people who would be willing to help us."

"No, she wouldn't send in anyone who would be easily shaken up over anything, _she_ knows what goes on in the SGC better than most would. No, they would be the cream of the crop, strong willed and open to things that are different and unique. Not what we need…" Turning, he pointed to one of the men who had so far remained silent. "Find out what you can about the people she's submitting to Davis for consideration. We may have to make a move to _discourage_ those people from taking the jobs."

"Discourage them permanently?" came the question.

"No, the body count is already getting to high. I don't think the SGC has much of a chance of coming after us, but Carson's NID group could possibly be a problem."

"Why? He doesn't like the way the SGC has control any more than the rest of us do," a woman who had been silent until now pointed out.

"No, but if we draw too much attention, the SGC will go to work on taking _all_ of us down. And he can't afford them coming after him when they really want to take _us_ down."

"If they go after him, that's to our advantage," she pointed out.

"Yes, but Carson'll come after us before they have a real need to try to take us all out," the first man stated. "I don't want to give him the excuse, and no one else better do so. Understood?"

There was a chorus around him of agreements, but he noticed some people were silent, seemingly intent on other subjects. Well, this situation would bear watching.


	9. Chapter 9

Major Paul Davis had been on the run for the last twenty-four hours or longer, and he was hitting the end of his rope. First came the call from General Hammond about three soldiers that Colonel Ferretti had discovered, but that needed pulled in fast before they had to haul them back from the middle east. He had the first checks done to get them the basic clearance, then had to make calls to get them taken off the personnel lists. And wound up in a fight with the base's general when the officer didn't want to let them go.

It took several calls with the Joint Chiefs to get the men pulled out of action. General Maynard himself finally had to contact the bull-headed idiot in California to get them out of the line-up heading to Iraq. Within ten minutes of hanging up, they got a call back from Ferretti, letting them know that he was also being thrown off the base, and he needed to move his wife out of there as quickly as possible. More phone calls had gotten Ferretti's old team heading to California with a few other personnel to help the missus move, while Davis headed west himself to make sure the General wasn't going to cause any more problems for the men and get them out of there.

Seeing how tired he was, no one bothered him on the small plane, while Ferretti spent some time making calls back to Colorado to be sure his house was clear of the former, troublesome tenants. The three 'recruits' talked quietly among themselves, and didn't bother either man with questions for the moment, but both officers knew those questions would come. Eventually.

Hitting Peterson base, Davis took a fast helicopter flight to the mountain, and soon found himself accepting a cup of the mountain's best coffee as he, O'Neill and General Hammond settled down to talk in the briefing room. The impressive array of listening devises strewn across the table made his head ache. "Damn. How in the hell did they get that many bugs into the SGC?" he questioned.

"Two, maybe three or four people on the inside," Hammond stated, scowling at the items in question. "Now, the Tok'ra brought us a Za'tarc detector earlier this afternoon. We're pulling people in from the security areas first, starting with the techs and SF's that have been searching these things out. Scientists and lab techs are next in line, followed by medical and then support staff. There have been a few complaints, but most personnel, now knowing what happened to Dr Jackson last night, haven't given us too much trouble."

O'Neill spoke up. "Well, we've had three people suddenly disappear off the base, though, and they haven't been found so far. Two of the three are SF's and could have easily gotten access to the areas were we've found the bugs. The third was one of Daniel's off-world traveling archeologists. I'm going to take a list of where the guy has been to Jacob later, and see if he or Selmak can tell us if one of the places he's gone recently might have been somewhere where he could have gotten the poison that took Daniel down."

"So that letter may never have come through the Pentagon at all, it could have been mixed in here at the SGC?" Davis questioned, scowling. He looked like he was getting a headache, and the other two could sympathize. Both had already had some pretty strong migraine medication.

"He would have had the opportunity, yes," Hammond agreed. "The person in question often sorts out the mail for Dr Jackson's departments, he could very well have exchanged the letter at that point. But we don't know for sure." He looked over at O'Neill, and from the look on the Colonel's face, Davis knew there'd been at least one heated discussion on the topic. "Right now, all we have is circumstantial evidence. We need hard facts in order to pursue a criminal investigation."

"What about the SF who killed Dr Jackson last night?" Davis asked, his look turning pained at the thought. "The guard?"

"Bribed and threatened," the General stated. "The detector proves his story without a doubt. At this point, he's being held in protective custody and guarded by SF's who have been cleared through questioning. They know he was forced into it, and they'll see to it that he's not harmed until decisions can be made about what to do with him. His family have been pulled in for their own protection and are at the Academy, also under guard."

Davis nodded, then changed the subject. "Any chance I could see Abby before I leave? I was glad to hear her paperwork went through and the transfer was approved so quickly. She was pretty miserable with the work she was doing back in Washington, seems all her patients ever wanted her to do was come up with miracle cures that wouldn't require them to change their own lifestyles. I think she'll be a lot happier working with Dr Fraiser here at the SGC. Even if a couple of her former patients are going to be more than a little bit ticked off at her being gone."

"Anyone we know?" O'Neill asked eagerly, leaning his chin on his fist, his elbow firmly resting on the big oak table.

"Senator Kinsey, for one," Davis replied. "I could tell when he'd been in to see her, an extra long run after work was always the results."

"Well, then, him being ticked off is something we can enjoy. For the moment," O'Neill added, then frowned. "Last I heard, he and Hayes were way ahead in the polls."

Davis nodded. "They're likely to win. And when they do, Kinsey isn't going to hesitate in trying to get Hayes to give the SGC to the NID."

"I've already talked to General Maynard about this," Hammond stated. "I know Hayes, served with him in the early days of my career. He'll want to hear both sides before making any sort of decision. Especially on something as important as the Stargate project." He leaned back in his chair. "And the more Kinsey pushes, the more Hayes is going to want to know why. As for the original question, Dr Sinclair and Dr Fraiser are at the new Beta site, and will be for a time. If you want to go through, I'll allow it for a while. But you really look like you need some sleep, son."

"Been on the run since this mess started. First trying to track down where the hell that letter came from, then getting those three recruits and Ferretti out of California. That damn general tried to get Ferretti court-martialed for insubordination. I had to get General Maynard on the phone to the idiot to cut him off. And in the meantime, I have those personnel checks going on. Ferretti's three passed with no trouble. I'm waiting to hear one or two things about Dr Loring still, but so far she's passed the basic checks. Unless something major turns up with the final checks, you'll have her coming in. Plus I've gotten a few more applications from Dr Gardner, students of hers that are interested in the job security. Apparently positions for archeologist and anthropologists aren't thick on the ground."

"Kinsey's got a 'list' heading for your office for 'consideration'. Said he was sure they'd _all _pass your security checks," O'Neill warned.

"I doubt it," Davis sighed. "We may find one or two, but most of them will likely prove to be hostile towards the very idea of working on anything Dr Jackson started." He shrugged. "I'll see what I can find. Most likely he'll try to use our turning down his recommendations as a further excuse to turn the program over to the NID."

Hammond agreed. "See what you can find, if there are good people who are open minded enough for the project, I don't care who recommends them, we need them. But I don't want troublemakers either."

Nodding in agreement, Davis finished off his coffee. "Let me make a call to my office to start things rolling, I'm sure he's gotten the list there by now, then I'm going to go visit Abby for a while. Maybe I'll be able to get a nap while I'm flying back to DC after I've seen her." He chuckled. "Apparently, Ferretti's boys seem to agree with your assessment about me being tired. They looked like they had a ton of questions, but they held off asking them."

"Where did Lou take them?" O'Neill questioned. "His house is in lousy shape, I oversaw the tenants eviction last week myself. His old team went in and got out the worse of the trash, but it definitely needs a scrub and paint job to go with the repairs."

"I made arrangements for the four of them to stay at the Air Force Academy with the rest of the students who are graduating into the Stargate program," Hammond informed them both. "General Kerrigan is expecting them, and has made housing arrangements in the barracks. At least until Colonel Ferretti has his house in order, though with the current situation, I may advise them to remain at the Academy. They'll work with the other students coming into the program, learn a bit more about the program itself, and hopefully stay out of trouble until we're ready for them. Which won't be until after this mess is all straightened out." He looked at O'Neill. "Jack, now that we know we can speak freely here at the base, I want you to see what you can do to find some of those NID agents. I know you have sources outside of the military, and I want you to use them if you have to."

"I may have to offer some big favors to the ones who might be the most use," O'Neill warned, rubbing his fingers together to indicate a cash bribe.

"You've got a one million dollar budget, Colonel," Hammond stated firmly. "That's what I can allow you."

"Yes, sir," O'Neill agreed, mentally going through his contacts to determine who exactly he could call on for assistance in this case. A few of them, he knew, would only talk to him face to face. But he hoped that some of them might have some information for him that he could use. "Davis, you know of anyone left in the NID that might be of _some_ use to us?" he asked. "Barrett helped us before, but he was working with Carter, not me, and I don't know the guy."

"He's the one who sent me all the information I got on the agents gone rogue," Davis stated. "He promised he'd get in touch with me when he gets more info, and I'll pass it on to you."

"Good. Take a break though, go visit your lady for a short time, then head out, I'll see what I can find out in the meantime," O'Neill told him. "General?"

"You have your orders, gentlemen. Dismissed."

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At the Air Force Academy, Ferretti got his men settled into the barracks wing they'd been assigned, thanking the young officer who directed them to a series of four rooms where they'd be staying until things were set at the SGC for their arrival.

Usually the rooms were for two cadets, but they'd been given four so they'd each have a private space. The grounds were open to them, including the training area, and he inquired where cadets waiting to go into their new posts of the mountain were working and learning. Air Force personnel had a habit of scoffing at 'jarheads', while Marines tended to look down at Air Force personnel as 'flyboys' and general non-combat officers. These were misconceptions from both sides that he wanted killed as soon as possible. He was pleased to hear they were quartered in the level above them, in the same building.

He had just gotten his own bags settled when a messenger arrived to take him to General Kerrigan. He had half expected the call, and had his uniform out and ready. It took only a few minutes for him to change, then follow the young man back to the General's office. It took a bit longer than his guide clearly expected, but Ferretti could only move so fast. Many people gave him odd looks, clearly surprised to see someone still in uniform limping along the way he was, but no one commented.

Kerrigan himself had clearly been warned about his handicap, he returned Ferretti's salute and motioned the Colonel to a waiting chair without even giving the cane a glance. "Glad to see you made it, Colonel," he stated with a friendly smile. "We're working on your transportation troubles right now, but my staff is aware of your… limitations. No one will be upset by any late arrivals."

Ferretti nodded, but his look was curious. "What kind of transport?" he asked. "I've used a scooter in the past, and officers tended to frown and wonder how the hell I managed to stay in the service if I can't get around on my own two feet."

"You won't have that problem here, I've already talked to people about who you are and why you're here. As for the transport, we've ordered you a heavy-duty Segway. I've been informed that one will reliably be able to take you anywhere you need to go on the grounds."

Ferretti looked very pleased with the idea, and for a second Kerrigan was reminded of the look a little kid had going into a toy store, but the man quickly smothered his glee. "Sounds good, sir. Am I being transferred to the Academy on a permanent basis?"

"Yes, you'll be joining my staff as an evaluator and a combat teacher. I had a few people voice some worries about having a Marine in that position, but after reading your secured file as leader of SG-2, I have no doubt that you know what our people will need to know when they go into the SGC program."

"I was just thinking that there needs to be more integration between the Marines and the Air Force personnel before they hit the mountain. We've had people hurt because Air Force can't believe that a 'jarhead's' got a brain, and Marines can't believe that Air Force can fight well enough to back them up. Better both sides get that nonsense knocked out of their heads here where they're not in real combat conditions."

"I agree, but what about civilians?" Kerrigan asked. "I know there are some on the teams, though not many."

Ferretti looked a bit rueful over that. "Only after going through some pretty rigorous training, and the few of those that do are the exception to the rule. In fact, other than a few scientists and a handful of archeologists, most of them don't go off world at all. Or at least that's the way it was when I left a couple years ago."

"As I understand it, the SGC has started doing some major recruitment for scientists, and they're definitely looking for ones that can handle off world travel. You've been filled in on the current situation at the base?" Kerrigan asked, then continued when Ferretti nodded. "Personnel hired on will be directed here for evaluation before going on to work at the mountain when that situation has been dealt with. That includes the trio you brought in. Now, given that they aren't students, I expect them to stay busy doing _something_ while they are here, I don't want them lazing about."

"They're not the type, and I plan on keeping them with me. I have a house I need to set right before the missus arrives, and they'll be a big help doing it. Besides, this group probably will be interested in some of the classes. Don't spread it around, but all three of those guys probably have as much schooling as most of your cadets. One of them has a PHD in Geology in fact, as well as a couple of bachelor and master degrees. One of them might well give Teal'c a run for his money when it comes to 'primitive' weapons and could probably keep up with Major Carter when it comes to the chemistry behind blowing things up. The third wants to know everything there is to know about history. None of them are what you would call 'typical' Marines."

"I've never been one to believe there is such a thing," Kerrigan admitted. "All right, I'll give you a few days to put your affairs in order, Colonel, and if you need more hands, well, there's always a new way to work off demerits for the students. This is Monday, do you think you'll be ready to get started by next week in your new position? I've got a half dozen new candidates for the SGC who could certainly use the rawness knocked off of them."

"Should be ready to take them on then, sir, thank you," Ferretti assured him. "In the meantime, I need to learn the layout around here, and make sure my boys stay in shape."

"Very true. Well, you said one was familiar with ancient weaponry? There's a survival class just starting this afternoon, in about an hour in fact. If you take your boys out the back of the barracks where you're all staying, and down the right hand path towards the woods, you'll find the class about a hundred yards into the trees. Some of the other SGC picks are going to be there, might be good to let everyone start getting familiar with each other."

"Yes, General, it might well be a good start. Thank you, sir, for your support, I hope I don't disappoint you working here," Ferretti told him as both men stood.

"It will probably help that I'm aware of the program already," Kerrigan admitted. "I did get a report on the problems you had on your last posting, and you won't have them here, Colonel. Now, go get those boys of yours moving, I may come out later myself and see how things are going. Dismissed."

Ferretti saluted and headed back out to the barracks. There, he told his men to get ready for a run and survival class while he changed out of his dress uniform and into fatigues. Leaving the building, he sent them off ahead of him to find the class, warning them all with a soft voice to 'play nice with the children', since most of the students were several years younger than any of his men.

The three answered with a crisp 'yes sir' and took off, heading down the path at a steady jog with Ferretti following them at his much slower amble. It didn't take them long to find the woods trail that had been indicated by General Kerrigan and from there it wasn't to hard to find the gathering class.

Apparently the instructor had known there was a possibility they could show up and was unsurprised when they joined the growing group of cadets, but the cadets themselves turned and stared when the three older marines took up a spot on the edge of the covered area where the class was being held. A few more cadets followed them in, then the class was called to order.

Ferretti arrived shortly into the note taking session, and found a seat on the edge of the grandstand style seating where he could sit and prop up his leg to rest it. The instructor traded salutes with him, called the student's attention back to himself and continued the lesson, which was on how to make weapons from common items found in the woods around them. "If you know what to look for, have a good, sharp knife and a bit of patience, you can make functional weapons out wood, stone and bark," he told them. "Bow and arrow, spear, even a club made from a good, stout stick can keep you alive if and when your conventional weaponry fails you. And there will be times that it _can_ fail you. Plus there is always the danger of capture. If that happens, then you're going to need what you learn here to survive…"

Dividing them up into teams, he sent them off into the woods to see what they could come up with for weapons, mixing the three marines into the crowd of curious cadets. He was as curious to see what they would do as Ferretti was, and settled with the Lieutenant Colonel to have a talk and watch.

To start with, the cadets didn't seem to know what to think of the three marines, but when Heasley spotted a suspicious mound of rocks and identified them as flint, they started to come around. Following his lead, they picked up a number of the rocks, which he didn't tell them had been planted, since flint wasn't found in that area, and carried them back to the training area.

The instructor found his class rather disrupted for the next half hour as the geologist gave them all a lesson on rocks, and how to knap flint to make spearheads, arrowheads and axes…. And very, very effective ones, too. When Carlson showed up with a long, straight, knot free sapling and asked him for a wood scraper, he'd been quick to supply it, and his fellow marine had gone to work on making a very efficient long bow, much to the surprise of the cadets, but not their instructors. Ferretti had filled his fellow colonel in on the background training of his trio, and they were watching with as much interest as the students.

General Kerrigan found the class all working together some time later, the teachers learning as much from the students as the marines showed everyone a few new tricks… He laughed quietly to himself, and wandered on, pleased, without anyone noticing.

Yes, it looked like this was going to work out just fine.

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Refreshed from a long nap on the trip from Colorado to Washington DC, Davis headed straight back to the Pentagon to find out the results of his orders. His half dozen aides had already started to go through the list that had arrived from Senator Kinsey's office, and dismissed most of them as probable troublemakers. There were, however, a few surprises, and he called in Dr Truman to see if he knew any of them.

Dr Joseph Truman had worked on the project pre-SGC, joining the staff even before Daniel Jackson had been brought in, and had had little luck dealing with the Stargate mystery. When the project had closed down after the Abydos mission, he'd gone his own way, but returned later when the SGC had been formed. However, he and Daniel had never quite been on the best of terms, and the older professor had never set foot through the Gate. The one time he'd been called on to try, he'd frozen in the doorway, unable to move, and it was quietly determined that he had a definite Stargate phobia. It wasn't something that they ran into often, but when they did, it was dealt with as quickly as possible.

The decision was made to move Dr Truman out of the mountain itself and put him to work, not at Area 51, but rather at the Pentagon, a move which Daniel himself had suggested. Dr Truman wasn't a linguist, but he was very good anthropologist with a good background in archeology. And he was more than good enough to be put to work with Davis turning Daniel's very terminology heavy reports on foreign cultures into something that the President and the Chiefs of Staff could understand.

Arriving shortly after Davis did, Truman looked over the list and shook his head. "You're right, these three are the only ones even remotely suitable for work with the SGC. The rest of them… Well, someone must have been trying to put together a list of the most _unsuitable _people possible when they sent you these names. My research assistant, Dr Phillips, would be better suited at the SGC than any of them would, and he knows absolutely nothing about the project. Two of them, actually, have been suspected of _destroying_ artifacts that might have proven Daniel's theories were correct." He shook his head. "Good for the SGC, but no good for the advancement of archeology if the project ever goes public."

"Which it will eventually, we all know that," Davis sighed. "And yes, you're probably right about that list, given that it came from Kinsey's office. These last three were written in on the end of a typed list. I doubt the Senator knows their names are even there."

"Probably not a good idea to tell him that they were, either. If they work out, it would be a shame to get someone on our side in Kinsey's office in trouble."

"Very true. All right, I'll get full checks going on these three, see what they've been up to, and decide if we want to call them in and make them an offer."

"I heard about the attack on Daniel, how is he doing?"

Davis look turned grave. "He died last night. A second assassin was in the SGC itself, and got to him early this morning. They gave him a Tok'ra funeral early this afternoon, barely managed to keep the NID at Area 51 from grabbing the body. That's when they ran into Kinsey and he told them he'd be sending us this list."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dr Truman stated, and Davis could tell he meant it. "Daniel and I didn't quite see eye to eye on things, but he was good with his work, and his theories have all panned out over the years. Do they have anyone in mind to replace him at the SGC? Or have they not gotten that far yet?"

"No one firm yet, but Dr Teresa Loring might well be a candidate if the last of the background checks clear. I should be hearing back on them any time now. She's young, but so was Daniel when he first came into the SGC. She's not as versed as he is with languages, but few people are, and she knows enough that she'd be useful offworld. She does have a similar background with Archeology and Anthropology, however. That's a major plus in her favor. She's also working in Chicago with Dr Sarah Gardner, and Dr Gardner is very sure she'll fit into the work at the SGC with no trouble at all."

Truman agreed. "If _she_ says this young lady will work with us, then she's definitely a good candidate. And if she's learned any languages at all, she'll be able to pick up more of them with exposure, we've found that happens a lot over the years. I have, for example, a passable knowledge of Goa'uld." He smiled. "My assistant, Dr Phillips, has indicated a few times that he'd be interested in going to the SGC to work, though he's not fully aware of the nature of the project. I don't know what I'd do without him, however, and I don't want to advance him out of my office, I don't think he'd be at all suitable for the place. Besides, he has no language ability and has never been anything but a student on a dig, so if he approaches you on the subject, turn him down gently, all right?"

"It doesn't sound like he'd be qualified at this point any way," Davis assured him.

The two discussed several other issues they had going, the Dr Truman headed off for his own office, neither he nor Davis seeing the young woman who lurked just outside the colonel's office.

Leaving the area, she went out to the inner courtyard of the Pentagon, finding an isolated area and pulling out her cell phone. She made sure the scrambler was in place, then called an unlisted number. "Davis is saying that Jackson is dead," she stated without preamble. "Dr Teresa Loring is the current candidate to replace him. Gardner has her in Chicago. She could be a danger to our plans."

"Understood. She'll be… discouraged," came the simple reply, then the phone shut off.

Putting her cell away, the Air Force Captain went to get her coffee, then headed back for the office. She still had a lot of work to do, getting the information together on the new personnel for the SGC.

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Heading out of Denver, O'Neill listened to some of his favorite opera music as he thought over the morning's events, glad that he'd gotten some decent sleep the night before since the morning had sure been full of surprises. And a lot of relief. All of the SGC personnel had cleared through the checks with the Za'tarc detector, and everyone they'd tested had passed with flying colors. The hunt was on for the missing personnel, especially the missing archeologist. If any of them were found, then the questions would be very, very different.

Word from Beta had Daniel doing much better, sitting up now and was able to at least move around the medical tent with assistance. Carter had spent the night there, talking with her dad, and Janet would be there for the week while Daniel's healing was going on. O'Neill had invited Cassie to spend the week with him, and after making sure there were no bugs at his place, had filled her in on the events of the past few days.

News coming from Davis in Washington had yielded even better results. All three of Ferretti's recruits had passed the last of their checks, as had Dr Loring in Chicago. Davis had sent a courier with the last of the papers for her to sign, and she'd been eager to do so, so they had her on board as well. She had two weeks to go to finish getting her degree, so they were delaying her move to Colorado until she was done.

The courier had returned later than planned, having called only to say he was delayed, and deposited another two dozen applications and resumes on Davis' desk, all of them from students who worked with Sarah is Chicago. Some were serious archeologists like Daniel, but at least three or four were from older folks looking for research positions. A letter from Sarah explained that she thought the SGC team archeologists spent too much time trying to link things together, something that these people would be better able to do on a full time basis. Daniel was good at yanking information off the net and out of publications, but some of the others weren't so lucky about it, and having help could, admittedly, cut down on some of the turn around time for getting reports done on some of the things they brought back.

O'Neill spotted his turn off and left the highway, moving into a rest area and parking as far as he could from the public restrooms, which was where most of the other vehicles were congregating. A trail led away from that end of the parking lot towards a small stream and a copse of trees, and that's where he headed.

Out of sight of the parking lot was a fallen tree that lay across the streambed, and he found a comfortable place where he could lean against it, enjoying the sunshine for a change, and the rare opportunity to get out of the mountain, and yet still be on the same planet. The tree was a thick one, a comfortable height for him to prop his arms on the top without having to lean over much. "This is a nice place for a meeting, Scotty," he stated out loud, closing his eyes and trusting that his contact was already there.

Sure enough, about a minute later, the log shifted as a second man took a similar position on the other side of the trunk and down just a bit from his position. "I rather thought so. You don't get out much, do you Jack? 'Radar Telemetry' keeping you busy?"

"Don't go fishing there, Scotty, that's deep water with bigger sharks than you want to deal with." O'Neill warned. "You heard about my friend Daniel?" he asked.

"You got a lot of people unhappy at Area 51 about not getting his body, though I'm not exactly sure why," Scotty told him. "Some of them, though, are really happy he's dead." He smirked. "Including Senator Kinsey."

"Yeah, I knew about that one. Question is, did Kinsey have anything to do with his assassination?" Taking out an envelope from his pocket, O'Neill laid it down on the trunk. "And if he did, can you get me proof of it?"

"He was overheard gloating about it, but seemed as surprised an everyone else when word started circulating about Jackson's death. Personally, I don't think he had anything to do with it." Scotty rested his chin on his knuckles, elbow on the trunk. "Kinsey doesn't like you much, Jack. And he's been getting his people to pull up any dirt they can possibly find on you and your friends. He makes Vice President, and he's going to come after your people with everything he's got, true or not."

"We think it's NID rogues that might be helping him, and that may have taken Daniel out. Any clues in that area?" O'Neill asked, pulling out a second envelope and tapping the first one with it.

"There are two groups, and they're both mighty antsy about what you and your people are doing up in that mountain. One has plenty of money, and the right connections, and is led by Ed Carson. He isn't after you; he and his people feel that you're doing what you think is right, no matter what their money sources say. And I don't have proof yet, but I'd say that they're likely the ones that gave Kinsey that bundle that might get him into the vice president's office. I'm going to keep digging on that one."

"And Hayes?" O'Neill questioned.

"Has no clue at all about the project, and no idea where his running mate is coming up with so much hard cash. From what I've seen of him, if he wins and you present your case to him carefully, then you'll win him to your side. Kinsey's a snake, and he knows it…."

O'Neill laid down the second envelope, then pulled out a third. "So far you're confirming most of my suspicions," he stated, again tapping the other two envelopes. This one was thicker, holding more cash than the others. "This other group, what can you tell me about them?"

"About two dozen people, half of whom are still working from the inside. David Fredricks is the one behind the group you're after. He's still got a couple of people working inside the Pentagon, and probably at least one, if not more, at Area 51. Problem is, he's not got the backing from on high that Carson does. Or people in the right places to do much good getting what he wants."

"So, any idea what his full plan is?" O'Neill questioned.

"Get your man Jackson out of the way and get someone of their choosing into his place," Scotty replied. "There's other things they want, but I'm not sure what. That's the main excuse though… Jack, you better realize, if you start bringing in more people they don't like, they may start moving against them unless you start getting Fredricks and his people soon."

"Great. And you say he's got people inside… Who?" O'Neill asked, still holding onto the third envelope. "How do we find these guys?"

"You may not have to, actually. Way they're going, I think Carson's group is about to start taking them out if they screw up any further. Fredricks and his people are drawing way too much attention to the rogue NID, and they're not being as smart as they could be about their targets. As for where to find them, they're close to their targets. I think you're likely to find that they're right under your nose. Fredricks is one to stay close to what's most comfortable to him, and if you look at his file, you'll see that he grew up hopping trains."

"The old train boneyard?" O'Neill asked.

"Can't give you a definite answer there, Jack, but if I were a betting man, that's where I'd put my money."

O'Neill nodded thoughtfully as he laid down the last envelope and stepped back. "Do I want to ask where you got all this information?" he questioned.

Scotty picked up the envelopes, and for just a second he reminded O'Neill of Harry Maybourne. "You'd probably be happier not knowing, Jack. But you know I'd never lie to you."

Conceding the point, O'Neill turned away, heading back to his waiting truck. "Take care of yourself, Scotty, and stay in touch. I got more where that came from if you got more info for me."

"I'll keep that in mind, Jack," came the voice from behind him, then there was only silence as they went their separate ways.

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Never before could she remember being in so much pain. Every breath was agony as she forced bruised and broken ribs to move, to draw in life-giving air, and it didn't help that she was bound face down on the ground.

They had surprised her late in the evening as she was finishing up grading the last paper for the night. Sarah had been tired, the last week had been hard on her, and she was still mourning the loss of her good friend, Dr Jackson. The yearly finals had been turned in, and when Teresa had offered to go through the last class' worth for her, Sarah had been grateful to get away and go home for a change. Neither of them ever would have expected three men wearing masks to burst through the door and attack Teresa as she worked…

They hadn't been gentle, especially since she fought back, but with the odds at three to one, and they being similarly trained, the outcome hadn't been in any doubt. From the first blow, Teresa had feared she was going to lose, and when they got her down, they took her down hard.

What had followed had started like something out of a nightmare. Two of them had pried her mouth open so the third could force in a huge rubber gag, dislocating her jaw and completely muffling her cries for help. A leather hood had followed before she was bound, then dragged up the platform that held the classroom desks. She knew that there was a trap door in the back corner that allowed the janitors access to the area underneath. The hatch was just big enough for a grown man to get through, and they had dropped her down into it, then followed.

They tortured her, pure and simple. Her heavy sweater had been torn off, as had her shoes and socks, leaving her only a light blouse and pants. Her futile attempts to struggle had resulted in more blows, mostly kicks that left her gasping for breath as she felt ribs crack under them. A blow to the jaw nearly made her pass out. More blows followed as one of them began to speak in a hissing whisper, telling her that she _wasn't_ going to be getting that new job, they were going to see to that… It was nothing personal, she was told, she was a threat to their plans and had to be removed… She had lost consciousness before the worst of it had started, but the results were worse than anything she'd ever felt when she roused again.

An attempt to move to bring some relief to the pain brought dizziness and nausea, and the last thing she wanted to do was throw up. Her mouth filled with rubber, she would choke to death, and knew it. She had heard muffled voices, off and on, as well as footsteps on the platform over her head.

Desperate, Teresa tried to force her legs to move, shoving against the ropes that held them bound to the support post, and the resulting flair of agony sent her spinning into darkness…

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Two chapters in one week... How is this for faster turn around. :D Unfortunately, the next chapter hasn't been started yet, so it may be a bit before the next one.

Please, read and review? Thank you!


	10. Chapter 10

Leaning back against the straight tree trunk, Janet looked down at the sleeping archeologist in her lap and sighed in contentment. Daniel had had a treatment an hour or so before, the last of the healing sessions, according to Jacob, and he was always left tired by them. Sleep, lots of it according to Selmak, was what his body needed most to finish the healing process, and he was getting it for a change. It was a far cry from the normal four to six hours he got most nights back on base, up until two or three in the morning doing work research or translations, then up and moving to do daily mission briefings most morning no later than nine. How he kept it up, Janet had yet to figure out, though the look of exhaustion on his face had been more and more noticeable of late as the fight against Anubis and the Goa'uld had grown more intense.

One of the 'forbidden' subjects to talk about anywhere near the camp was how the fight was going back at the SGC. After three days at the beta sight, Daniel was still relaxed and getting some rest, and they didn't want to disturb that mood in any way, shape or form...

For now, at least, what was going on elsewhere wasn't their problem. Daniel's pneumonia had been reduced a major cold, and he was still recovering from the heart attacks as well. They didn't want him doing too much, too fast, which explained his current state, stretched out under a light blanket to enjoy the afternoon sunshine for a nap. His head ending up in Janet's lap had been due to a lack of a pillow and her thigh being conveniently close when the urge to sleep had hit him.

Not that she minded one bit...

Since his return to them earlier in the year, Janet had found herself growing closer and closer to Daniel in a completely different way than she should have been as his doctor and she was now fairly sure that he was feeling the same way. Both had held off making any sort of move since it would have meant that Janet could no longer take care of him, and Daniel simply hadn't gotten along with either Dr Brightman or Dr Carmichael. Dr Warner worked at the SGC primarily just a surgeon now and was seldom around as a GP, and this had left them with the dilemma of who would become his primary care physician in Janet's place. Abby's presence at the SGC was now official, though, and Daniel was agreeable to her taking Janet's place as his doctor. Finally, it looked like they could really start pursuing a real relationship together.

The double hoot of the Stargate alarm sounded in the camp, and she murmured to Daniel as it was quickly cut off. Looking around, she spotted Teal'c nearby; the Jaffa had been sticking with them for the time being instead of returning to earth. Given that he was strong enough to easily carry Daniel, it was handy to have him around at times, even though Daniel was now able to get up and move around as necessary.

Right now Janet could see Teal'c was frowning as he listened to the radio on his shoulder, speaking softly into the mike and suddenly growing angry as he nodded, clearly making a decision of some sort, then spoke again. A moment later the flashing warning light turned off, indicating that the gate had closed down, and he headed for them, his stride purposeful. "I must leave," he told her. "There has been developments back at the SGC that require my attention as soon as possible."

"Where's Sam and the Colonel?" Janet asked, perplexed.

"There has been a problem with one of Sarah Gardner's students," he explained. "They have left to deal with the situation in Chicago, leaving me to deal with the current problem at the SGC."

Janet nodded again. "Tell them if I'm really needed they just need to call me," she told him, though she knew the other doctors at the base could take care of just about anything. She felt Daniel starting to shift, and brushed her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner to help keep him asleep. "Take care, Teal'c," she told the big man, who bowed his head in a goodbye gesture and headed for the Stargate at a fast jog.

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Exiting the Stargate back at the SGC, Teal'c immediately turned his staff weapon over to a waiting armory officer as he looked first to the control room, then up at the briefing room above it. He finally caught sight of General Hammond standing next to the upper window, but he was talking to someone else in the room behind him and had his back turned to Teal'c at the moment. The Jaffa gave the airmen a nod of greeting, then headed for the stairs up to join the briefing already in progress.

Coming up the spiral staircase, he found the General going over planning with two SF officers that Teal'c knew fairly well, Anderson and Keg. Kevin Keg was in charge of commanding the SFs that guarded the upper levels of the entry into the SGC, and often took charge when military matters occurred outside the mountain itself if alien tech was involved. David Anderson worked primarily as outside security, dealing with the security of the entire mountain complex that didn't deal with matters concerning the SGC. However, because of the frequent lock-down situations, the man was aware of the true nature of the lower complex.

All three men looked up as Teal'c entered, and Hammond returned his greeting with a serious look. "Major Anderson and his men have been staking out the train yards here in Colorado Springs, following up on a tip that Colonel O'Neill received," Hammond explained. "It looks now as if their surveillance has paid off, and we have a chance to get the people responsible for Dr Jackson's current condition. With the Colonel and Major Carter heading for Chicago, I thought that you might want to join the security forces that are going to hit the site."

"The idea is most appealing," Teal'c assured him, giving the men a small smile that boded ill for the villains they were after. "Are their numbers known?" he asked.

"Currently, they're using three train cars on the outskirts of the yard and there are about a dozen people there," Keg told him. "I was just about to recommend that we go in with a few Zats for backup to be sure that we get at least someone alive."

"A wise tactic if there is little chance that the battle will be seen by the outside community. Security and discretion must be preserved," Teal'c pointed out.

"It wouldn't be a problem in this case," Keg assured him. "I'm not recommending they be used as primary weapons, but rather as backups if someone runs." As they all knew, shooting a running suspect, as often as not, ended with a dead suspect.

Teal'c also knew this. "Will the local authorities have to be informed?" he questioned. "They are not aware of the true nature of this base."

"There are ways of keeping them off the scene and just guarding the outermost perimeter to keep civilians out of harm," Hammond assured him. "Dangerous 'experimental' weapons have become our trademark excuse with the police, and it's damn near the truth."

"Some of my people have already started forming a perimeter around the area and are keeping a close watch on the place," Anderson added. "We'll be outer defense, you and Keg's men will make the attack force."

"Indeed," Teal'c concurred. Who knew what the NID had in those boxcars and was capable of getting in short order. Including... "Will there be a bomb expert with our group?" he questioned. "While it is cowardly to use poison to kill someone, they may well fear prison more than dying and set explosives on the boxcars or in the surrounding area."

Keg shook his head. "Colonel O'Neill should be in Chicago with Major Carter by now according to what General Hammond's told me, so that means two of our four experts are out of reach. Major Dore is in Denver, we could get him here, but it would take some time. That leaves Sue Ortega, and I haven't been able to reach her."

Hammond shook his head. "She's off with SG-21, and can't be recalled at this point." he stated, but was looking very thoughtful as he considered something. "However, there's another option... Let me make a phone call," he told them as he turned and headed for his office "This is going to be unorthodox, but we deal with that all the time..."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow, and wondered what the wily general had come up with now...

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With Carter right on his heels, O'Neill nearly hit the sliding doors to the hospital emergency room as he was moving so fast. Both of them were in full dress uniform and immediately every eye in the place was on them. They paused to scan the room for a familiar face, then headed to meet the frazzled blond woman who was rising to greet them from her place is a quiet corner. The two men sitting with her were clearly startled by either her move, or the sight of the two military officers heading their way.

Or both...

Sweeping off his hat, O'Neill tucked it under his arm, then reached for his reflective sunglasses and took them off, tucking them into his jacket pocket behind the impressive array of metals he wore. He had pinned on his full 'fruit salad', an impressive six rows of bars and stars with a pair of service medals hanging over them, to draw attention, and the awards never failed to do their job. He watched both men trade a look of 'what now' with each other as they rose to follow her, and made a bet with himself that they weren't used to dealing with Air Force colonels over things like this. Obviously they had tried to con Sarah into giving them information, but they were about to learn that dealing with an Air Force colonel with his experience was quite another. Especially one who was glaring at them with the intensity he was currently targeting their way.

Carter ignored the two officers completely, instead giving Sarah a reassuring hug, then taking a half step back. "How is she?" she asked softly, giving her a concerned look. The woman looked more frazzled than they could ever remember seeing her, and Carter steered her away from the two cops at O'Neill's nod before the pair could protest, leaving them to O'Neill's 'tender' mercies while she dealt with finding out what had really gone on.

Sarah let out a deep breath of relief as they headed towards a nearby coffee station. "We haven't heard from the doctors yet, but the ambulance personnel said that her condition was very serious. She's been badly beaten, Sam. They dragged her underneath the seating in the classroom and left her gagged and tied to a post where she may well have died before we could find her. I didn't even think of looking under there, most people just tend to think of the platform as part of the floor, but one of the officers did, and found her under there."

"It's all right, Sarah, she's been found, and she's here in the hands of people who can take care of her. You can relax now..." Carter murmured, rubbing the woman's back gently with one hand as she poured hot water with the other, then added a tea bag. Adding sugar took two hands so she had to stop the soothing rub, but once Sarah had her hands around the cup, Carter gently drew her to a very quiet area while watching O'Neill escort the two men outside for a proper dressing down.

Carter and O'Neill both knew that Sarah had gone through treatment for having been a 'hostage' for the last three years, but right now she was now concerned that the situation was about to send Sarah right into a severe panic attack. Even now, when she really had to talk about the particulars of her experience, Sarah tended to call Daniel... Carter knew that because he'd pulled _her_ in to talk to Sarah just few weeks ago since she was familiar with the experience the woman had gone through.

Sometimes Carter really hated Jolinar, but when it came to dealing with the stress of having been controlled by a Goa'uld, she _did_ understand, at least, and was able to offer Sarah some advice. It was more than the psychiatrists had been able to do.

Carter got Sarah seated again, then sat down beside her. "Were they giving you a lot of trouble?" she asked gently, motioning back towards the door outside. From the looks both men had had on the way out, neither officer had really expected the military to show up and interfere with their investigation.

Sarah nodded. "They were FBI, not cops," she told Carter. "They kept asking questions I couldn't answer because of the security of the project. They wanted to know what kind of jobs Teresa had been involved in, and did she have any prospects as to where she was going to be working when her schooling was done. Was there any chance that she could have been involved in artifact smuggling? They even asked me if I knew if she was into drugs. Did she get regular packages from out of state, or out of the country?" Sarah took a deep breath and slowly let it out, then took a sip of the hot tea. "Apparently there was a situation a while ago with drugs being smuggled into the country in artifact shipments since the shipments are too delicate to be checked by customs officials. I've been out of the loop too long, I hadn't heard about it yet, so they thought my reaction was suspicious. When I told them I had just recently returned to the school after a three year absence, they _really_ got suspicious and started asking questions about _that_! Apparently one of them called in to get _my_ records looked up and they found the kidnapping report from three years ago and then they wanted answers about where I had been. I kept telling them that the information behind my kidnapping was classified, but they just weren't going to accept my word on that. I wanted to call you back, but one of them took my phone, for 'evidence', he said, and wouldn't return it. They started getting onto the tangent that whoever I'd been rescued from was trying to get me out of the way, and went after her because they'd found Teresa instead of me in the classroom."

Carter raised an eyebrow at that one. "Given how much they _don't_ know, that's actually not bad reasoning on their part," she admitted. "Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately given the truth of the situation, that's not the case. We're pretty sure it was rogue NID. It seems that they didn't want Teresa coming into the SGC..."

Shaking her head, Sarah continued. "Unfortunately, those officers didn't seem to believe me when I told them my captors were dead since there's nothing in my police file except that I was rescued, and not to be questioned over the matter. _That_ made them even more suspicious, and I heard one of them mumbling something about 'Stockholm syndrome' before they finally found Teresa and I joined the ambulance crew bringing her in."

That made Carter wince in sympathy. Yes, being accused of being a collaborator with the Goa'uld would not be something that would go over well with Sarah, not after what she'd endured under Osiris' control.

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Leading the two men outside, O'Neill headed for his waiting car, nodding to the driver as he put his hat back on and then turned to face the pair, scowling at them both. "To say that I'm not happy with you boys is an understatement," he told the men. "But, formalities first, it's always good to get them out of the way before the yelling starts. I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill, second in command of the lower Cheyenne Mountain Complex. Now, who the hell are you?"

The two men were caught off guard, but one of them quickly spoke up. "David Evans, FBI," he stated, drawing out his badge and card to show them to O'Neill. "This is my partner, Mark Woods. Colonel, we have no idea what the military has to do with this case, but we sure don't appreciate your attitude..."

"My attitude, at the moment, is civil. Don't push your luck and get me _really_ pissed off, all right?" O'Neill interrupted, giving him a glare. "As for the military's involvement, Dr Loring signed on with the Air Force as a civilian advisor just yesterday. This makes her an employee of the US government. And at Cheyenne Mountain, we take care of our people. _That's_ why I'm here."

The two men traded looks, both frowning. "You think there's a connection between her taking the job and being attacked?" Woods asked.

"Oh, pretty sure of it," O'Neill admitted, but didn't change his hard attitude. "By the way, I know you boys interrupted Dr Gardner when she was talking to us on the phone. Which reminds me, which of you has it and why are you keeping it?"

Woods reluctantly pulled it out of his pocket. "Dr Gardner wasn't exactly forthright with answering our questions, Colonel."

"She told you the matter was _classified_, didn't she? I _know_ I told her to _tell_ you that before you interrupted her call," O'Neill stated, holding out his hand to take back the phone with a scowl. "Our project has the highest classification, gentlemen. She should have told you that, and she should have told you that she was talking to someone with the project since _she_ can't answer your questions. But you didn't accept that, did you? You kept right on pushing..."

"This is the fourth kidnapping we've had this last month," Evans told him, sounding a bit desperate. "Same MO. Her actions hit us as suspicious; she kept saying she couldn't tell us anything. She didn't tell us that she didn't _know_ anything, only that she couldn't _tell_ us anything."

O'Neill considered this, starting to see where some of their insistent questioning had been coming from. "Were they all scientists, by chance?" he asked, his tone still firm, but not quite as aggressive. "If so, what fields?"

"Students actually. Basketball player, Physicists and an engineer. All female," Evans told him. "All found dead later on. First look, the situation with Dr Loring matched what we'd found with them."

O'Neill shook his head. "Not the same people, the MO is a coincidence. Dr Loring's attack was likely planned to keep her out of our project, someone wasn't happy with our hiring her."

"Who?" Evans asked. "And why would the military want to hire an archeologist to begin with?"

"An archeologist who happens to work in the Middle East, Agent Evans. She knows the languages, and she knows the people. This is something the military needs right now." Turning back to his car he opened the back door and drew out a briefcase, set it on the roof and took out a folder. He closed the briefcase and put it back in the vehicle, then turned and offered the folder to them. "Anyone here look familiar to you boys? Two or three of them are likely responsible for what happened last night to Dr Loring."

Taking the folder, Woods began to flip through the profiles inside, looking at the pictures on each one with a frown. "NID? National Intelligence Department?"

"Yep. They've gone rogue, turned vigilante. For all intents and purposes, if we catch any of them, they'll be on trial before a special court for treason."

Woods continued to work his way through the file O'Neill had given him, then paused to consider some of the photos and pulled out three pictures. "These three we saw this morning," he told O'Neill, laying them out. "It was the case we were looking into before we got the call about Dr Loring being missing."

"You got them in custody?" O'Neill questioned.

"Kind of. They should be on ice in the morgue by now. They were found in an alley, shot execution style."

"Damn, Scotty was right," O'Neill breathed to himself, though the comment was heard by the two investigators. "There's actually two groups, one is drawing too much attention, and the other is starting to take them down. Doesn't break my heart, but I want to know who's at the top, and these guys could have told me."

"What we know, Colonel, is that we got three bodies and a lady in the hospital who you say are linked, and you seem to be the one holding all the cards. . ." Woods told him. "Come on, give us something to work with here."

"Sorry, boys, but this isn't your case any more, and it's not related to your other investigation. We'll be taking Dr Loring out of here as soon as she's fit to move, and from what I saw, we may be taking Dr Gardner with us as well." O'Neill's scowl returned as he thought about how frazzled Sarah had looked. "You boys didn't go looking up her records and start dragging all that out, did you?" he asked, the scowl growing when they didn't reply, pretty much confirming his suspicions. "Damn it all, she was kidnapped and held by hostiles for _three years_, we just got her back a few months ago! And you two decided to use the old 'good cop, bad cop' routine on her, I bet, and dragged all that shit out looking for a motive for this..."

"We needed information..." Woods began.

O'Neill cut him off. "When someone tells you information is classified, and that they need to contact someone else to talk to you, then you let them make that call! If you had waited another thirty seconds, you would have been on the line with a two star general. But no, you had to grab the phone out of her hand and turn it off without asking who the hell she was talking to..." He shook his head. "Not too bright, boys."

"For all we knew, she was talking to a reporter or something," Evans pointed out.

Leaning forward, O'Neill's brown eyes narrowed as he drove his point home. "Did you even bother to _ask_?"

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Leaning on his cane, Ferretti watched the carpet layers bring in their rolls of new carpet to start redoing the floors of his old home. Thanks to a dozen or so SGC personnel who had volunteered to help, as well as his three recruits, they had gotten scrubbing and painting out of the way over the weekend while a group of carpenters took care of some dry wall patching and the two broken windows. The garage needed a bit more work, but at least the main house was done and ready for the new appliances to show up, the old ones having gone to the dump the first day. The attractive wood floor was ready for waxing where the new carpeting didn't cover it, and once the floor work was completed, all they needed was the furniture. All in all, the house had been repaired and cleaned up in a remarkably short time thanks to all the willing hands

The SGC personnel were all people he knew well, either from off of one team or another, SF's or from among the tech and maintenance personnel. Siler himself had shown up the first day to go through the house from top to bottom, checking the plumbing and electrical to be sure that nothing had been damaged.

The Master Sergeant's presence had been welcome for more reason than one: It was he who had quietly informed Ferretti that Daniel Jackson was very much alive. Daniel's death had been faked and Siler had assured him that after being smuggled off world to recover from the attempts on his life, the archeologist was doing very well. To say that Ferretti had been relieved to hear this was an understatement.

His boys were definitely fitting in well, getting along with the base personnel after a surprisingly short time. Heasley was the most open of the three, able to easily talk to anyone no matter what branch of the military they were in. He seemed to be completely lacking the 'we're the best' attitude that many Marines seemed to have, but with friends in other branches of the service, that wasn't too surprising. The others followed his lead, and with all the cooperation going on, it was no surprise they were getting done so fast.

Ferretti's cell phone rang as the first of the workmen were arriving for the second day of repair work in the garage, and the volunteers were deciding on who was going to be working on what projects that day. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and checked the number, recognizing it at once as being the SGC. He quickly hit the answer button, wondering what was going on. "Ferretti," he stated crisply, his tone formal.

"Colonel Ferretti, this General Hammond. Would your boys be available for an assignment? We believe we have the rogue NID group that went after Dr Jackson cornered in the old train yard, but we don't have a full assessment of the situation yet, and there's a possibility of explosive booby-traps around the area."

Ferretti's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Sir, where is Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter?" he questioned, knowing both members of SG-1 were explosive experts.

"Unfortunately, both are on their way to Chicago right now. Our other two demolitions personnel are also out of reach. But having read through their files, I know that your man Carlson has a history of using explosives and that's what we need right now."

"Yes, sir, he does. Who's in charge?" Ferretti asked, knowing the three were going to be going in. There was no way any of the three would turn down a chance for action.

"Teal'c is in charge of setting up the assault plans, along with Colonel Kevin Keg, who runs security in the SGC. Ask for Keg when you reach the train yard, and you'll get your full briefing from them. They'll have supplies for your men since I'm going to let you bring all three of them in. Carlson can use the other two for backup."

"On our way, sir," Ferretti told him, waving his three in as he hung up his phone. "Got a mission for the three of you," he told them, then paused to wave over Siler to let him onto what was going on. Once the Master Sergeant had joined them, he turned his attention back to his trio. "We'll be meeting up with an assault team in the train yards. Carlson, they need you in particular as a demolitions man, but the General is open to all three of you going in on this one. Heasley, Morgan, your main MO will be to cover Carlson while he works. There's some suspicion that this group has booby-trapped the area where they're hiding, and we'd rather they didn't catch any boobies."

"Booby protection is my specialty," Carlson assured him, looking pleased. "Assault sir?"

"Yes. They'll have flack vests and P-90's for all of you at the site," Ferretti assured them as they headed for his waiting SUV. The house was in good hands; Ferretti knew that Siler would oversee the work and take care of any problems that came up...

The trio quickly piled into the SUV, leaving the driving to Ferretti since he knew the area. "Any chance we can go by the academy sir?" Carlson asked. "I'd like to grab my kit if I might be dealing with explosives."

"We can do that, it's not to far out of the way," Ferretti agreed, deciding that was a good, reasonable request. Tools of the trade, after all, would be needed if there were explosives on the site. "My Segway came in today, we can pick it up as well. I'd rather not be limping around through a train yard, and they are quiet."

The detour only took a few minutes out of their time, though Ferretti did wonder at the second, longer case that Carlson returned with by the time the other two had the new Segway XT loaded into the back of the SUV. It was a piece that he remembered seeing with the man's gear but was by no means part of a normal kit. "What is that, anyway?" he asked when they were on the road again.

"English longbow, very efficient for taking out sentries," Carlson told him. "It's got a range of about four hundred yards or so. I've used one for years, has the advantage of being completely silent."

Ferretti was doubtful about its uses, but Morgan assured him he'd seen Carlson use the thing, and the man _was_ very proficient with it. "Did you bring the stars as well?" Morgan asked Carlson

Carlson nodded. "They're in the cap of the case," he assured him.

"Do I want to know?" Ferretti asked. He wasn't going to complain about the man's choice of weapons; after all, it was what they were bringing him into the SGC for.

"Shuriken," Carlson explained. "I've killed with them before, and they're useful for snipping trip wires from a distance."

Ferretti decided he wasn't going to ask for details on that one. If the man wanted to tell him the story later, he would.

Reaching the train yard, they passed through the outer layers of police security to the second layer, which was mountain security. The outer sentry that stopped them looked at Ferretti's ID, called in something over his radio, then directed them onwards to the inner layer of SGC security. It was there that they were directed to the waiting Teal'c.

The big Jaffa met Ferretti with a small smile and a familiar arm clasp that brought a grin to Ferretti's face. "It is good to see you again, Colonel Ferretti," Teal'c stated, then looked past him to the three younger men who were getting gear from other officers. One of the three, Teal'c noted, was turning down the offered P-90 and instead opening a very long case to withdraw a weapon that Teal'c was familiar with, but had never used. He had actually seen O'Neill craft one on the Nox homeworld when their weapons had been taken from them there. "Your recruits?"

"Oh, yeah," Ferretti told him, turning as the guys pulled the Segway out of the back of the SUV and set it up for him. "Interesting trio, I think you'll like them. Free thinkers, probably a bit more free than the military is used to. I thing they'll do great at the SGC, especially on a team."

A dark eyebrow flickered up. "We shall see," Teal'c stated as they brought over the Segway for Ferretti and took up at ease positions to get their orders.

"Guys, this is Teal'c, he's in charge of this operation," Ferretti told them, looking amused as he stepped up onto the Segway platform and locked his cane into the clip that was attached to carry it. "No, he's not military. Yes, he's able to kick your collective asses in a fight. So make sure you listen to him, he can teach you a hell of a lot."

The three men looked at Teal'c and nodded, though Heasley's eyes, Ferretti noticed, were on Teal'c bald head. Or, more to the point, the gold symbol that was there.

Teal'c looked the three over, then called softly to one of the other guards for a Zat for Ferretti. The man's eyes lit up with surprise at the order, but he swiftly buckled the alien gun to his upper thigh, moving his handgun to his belt under his jacket. "Surprised you got these out of the mountain," he told Teal'c.

"We do not know who all their numbers are, or who is, as O'Neill would say, backing them. We do not believe they could have come so far without a great deal of assistance from within the government itself."

"Good reason to want them for that questioning. So, what's the situation?" Ferretti inquired as the group moved further into the yard to join up with the rest of the assault team. There he was introduced to Colonel Keg, a relative newcomer to the SGC, but apparently good at his job.

They were shown maps of the area, the box cars drawn in to show current positioning. "These three have the guys on board," Keg told them, pointing out three cars on the edge of the map that were currently lined up on the other side of the train yard. "We checked on their ownership, all three were bought six months ago and brought into the train yard shortly thereafter. They were parked on a side line near the woods, so it's pretty easy for the guys we're after to get to them without really being noticed."

"We're going to move in the same way?" Heasley asked, examining the map, then turning to look around them, studying the ground carefully. "This area is pretty much scoured down to bedrock," he stated. "If the rest of the train yard is the same, we won't have to worry about land mines at least, no real way to hide them."

Carlson nodded. "All right, which means any explosives are either trip wires in the woods, or suicide explosives on the train cars themselves," he stated, then looked at Anderson and Keg. "Anyone tried to get close to the cars yet? Close enough to detect motion detectors?"

"None that we've found so far," Keg told him. "We're hoping there's no explosives at all, but we wanted you here just in case."

Carlson nodded, his look thoughtful. "I need to get in and under those train cars," he stated. "Preferably before you start your attack so we don't get blown to hell during the middle of it."

Teal'c agreed. "This way," he stated, mapping out a course that would get them in to the train yard end of the train, while their forces came in through the woods. "I will go with you as backup."

"They're not green recruits, Teal'c, but thanks," Ferretti told him, looking relieved. He'd seen the three young men in training, and on practice maneuvers, but not under fire, and was relieved they'd have the far more experienced Jaffa with them.

The trio got their flack vest situated, admiring the trimmed down vests as they loaded them with items they might need. Carlson, in particular, loaded his carefully, putting the many pouches on the front and sides of the vest to use as he emptied part of his bag, and then belted on a tool kit to take what was left. Last of all was a second, smaller pouch into which he slipped a half dozen star shaped objects and a fistful of what seemed to be thin metal spikes. A third pouch came out of his bag, and he tossed it to the watching Morgan. "Caltrops. Just in case."

"Got you," Morgan agreed with a soft laugh as he looped the bag on his belt. Seeing Teal'c watching, he quickly explained. "Think of jumping jacks with long, sharp spikes," he stated. "One point is always up. Nasty things if you step on them."

Though he didn't know the term 'jumping jacks', except as a kind of exercise which didn't quite seem to be relevant, the idea of an upward pointing spike laid to catch the unwary did make some sort of sense. If placed under the steps leading in and out of the cars, for instance... Yes, he could definitely see the advantage to such items, and nodded in agreement to the young man's statement.

The three men following close behind him, Teal'c headed into the train yard, Heasley and Morgan flanking him while Carlson and his longbow followed directly behind him. The weapons expert had a quiver of arrows across his back, and one on the string, half drawn and ready to shoot at a moment's notice.

That moment came sooner than expected when they rounded a train car well away from their target, but found themselves face to face with one of the men they were hunting for. He backed up two steps, startled, then turned and ran for the three train cars where his accomplices were hiding.

Teal'c was ready to bolt after him when a hissed command of 'down' came from behind him, and a moment later something whistled past his ear as he ducked, a feathered shaft appearing in the running man's thigh to bring him down. The entire group rushed forward together, and in seconds they had the man pinned and gagged, Heasley binding his hands while Morgan drew the familiar silver sheen of duct tape from one of pouches on his vest and used it to tape the man's mouth shut and muffle any screams.

Impressed, Teal'c called in, letting Keg know where to find the bound man as the trio got him out of sight under a parked train car nearby. This entire yard was shut down for the moment, so they had no worries that the cars would be moved and reveal the man's position before they could get back to him. A tourniquet on his leg made sure he didn't bleed out before a medic got to him with a security team. The entire process took barely over one minute.

The three men got their breath back as Teal'c took the lead again, and took up the positions they'd had before. This time, though, they were all far more wary as they continued on to their target. Good luck usually didn't last through two encounters, and they didn't want to run any further risks of being taken unawares.

They did run across one more guard, but Teal'c found himself behind the man. Raising his fist in a command signal for the three young men to hold their ground, he moved up swiftly to subdue him. Wrapping one heavy arm around the man's throat, Teal'c pulled him back out of sight, his companions swiftly moving to help him get the man pinned down, bound and gagged.

As soon as their second prisoner was secured, the three of them began to move in on the train cars, Carlson leaving his bow behind by Teal'c at this time and instead pulling something from one of the small pouch the Jaffa had noted earlier. Staying by the prisoner, Teal'c kept close watch on the trio as they began to check the closest car, Carlson looking it over very, very carefully from underneath, then moving on to the middle car, the other two hugging the sides to present as small a target as possible if anyone came out. Fortunately, the three cars were hooked together in such a way to really make them one large car, it wasn't possible to exit them except through the ends of the line up. So as long as both ends were covered, there didn't look to be any other way in or out.

Carlson looked over every inch of the train cars as he started at one end and began moving down towards the other, looking for any signs of the explosives he and the others were pretty sure were there. The first car proved to be clear, which he'd half expected, but the second car, towards the middle, he found just what he was looking for. There in the middle was a concealed box, and he smiled as he signaled to the other two to stay put. Both of them ducked under the car on either side of him, out of immediate sight, to cover the area while he worked.

Opening the box took a few minutes, but it was fairly clear they hadn't really been trying to hide their little trap. He removed the cover and set it aside, then looked over the bomb inside to see what it was he was dealing with. The remote control box was set for a certain frequency, he noted, and hooked to several pounds of high powered plastic explosives set to either side of it. It was these he went to work on, carefully carving away large chunks of the clay like material and handing it to his companions to be stashed away. When he had it sufficiently carved away from the wires on either side that it would make only a very, very small explosion, he then carefully drew the wires out of it, molding only a thin layer of left over clay around them in case the exposure set the thing off...

It was something he'd done many times before during training, and in the field. Still, he had the feeling there was a great deal more riding on this than usual, and he was especially careful as he pulled first one wire free, then the other before motioning to the team that he was done, rolling over and moving on.

Checking the rest of the car, and the third one, didn't take too long, and it was time for them to draw back. Slowly and carefully they did so, all three of them with weapons of one type or another at the ready as they moved back down to where Teal'c was standing watch and waiting for them. Morgan, again wearing that wicked grin Teal'c had noted earlier, pulled out the small bag Carlson had given him and proceeded to toss a handful of small items in front of the stairs that led down from their end of the cars. Teal'c could just make out the items as they landed on the ground, but they really weren't very noticeable if you didn't know they were there. And if he understood at all what they were, anyone fleeing down the back steps was going to be in a great deal of trouble.

The three men rejoined him, and Carlson gave his report. "Middle car only, got all the plastics off of the wires so that it they set it off, it won't make much more than a weak area in the floor of that boxcar. Do we need to work our way around to be sure there's nothing hidden in the woods?"

"That has already been done," Teal'c assured him, then clicked on his radio. "Colonel Keg, you are clear to proceed, the explosives and the outside guard have been dealt with."

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Carter looked up as O'Neill rejoined them, minus the two FBI agents. "They left?" she asked.

He nodded. "Hammond talked to their office, likely threatened to call the President if they didn't back off the case. At any rate, they were recalled and left. They did give us one piece of good news though. The three that likely did this were found dead just before they got the call out on Dr Loring's disappearance. Shot execution style and left in an alley not far from the college. Hammond was going to get a hold of Agent Barrett so that he could arrange to collect the bodies." O'Neill paused a moment, then continued. "Any word on her condition yet?"

"Not yet," Carter told him, rubbing Sarah's back in a soothing manner.

O'Neill hesitated, then reached out to take Sarah's hand. "Are you sure you don't want to reconsider our offer to come back to work at the SGC?" he asked softly. "I know you love teaching, but it can't be easy for you here."

Sarah reached up and pushed back her hair. "No, it hasn't been easy," she admitted. "There have been... a lot of questions... about where I was those last three years. People knew Daniel was there at the museum when I disappeared, and Steven hasn't helped much. He remembered a great deal of what had happened, enough that he's been pressing me to tell him more and not taking 'no' for an answer. He went so far as to accuse me of hiding archeological artifacts to support Daniel's work, which is nearly true since the Isis canopic jar and the ten thousand year old amulet were never returned to the museum."

"No, there was no way we could have returned those for further study, they're with other artifacts under tight lock and key," Carter admitted. "Sarah, why didn't you tell me this when I was here a few days ago?"

"Because things had calmed down with Steven going out on tour with his latest book, taking a lot of the pressure off. I really thought it had all blown over, but when you showed up and started talking to Teresa, and talking to me, all the questions came back up again. Most of the professors in the field still think that Daniel's theories are absolutely insane, but thanks to Steven, they know now he's working with the military in Colorado as a consultant. Since a few of them know that civilian advisors get very, very good pay, and grant money for digs and other work is getting harder and harder to get, there has been a great deal of jealousy building up, as well as some anger and resentment. After all, if crazy Dr Jackson can get money from the military, why isn't the government hiring more reputable scientists for this kind of work?"

"Oh, for crying out loud... We've looked at some of those scientists over the years, most of them won't pull their heads out of their asses long enough to even look at the evidence to see if Daniel _might_ be even _close_ to being right," O'Neill exclaimed irritably.

"A few have been rumored to have gone as far as destroy artifacts that might have proven Daniel's claims. Not that Daniel would have had any comment on the matter even if that evidence _had _come to light..." Sarah stated with some disgust at the very idea. "I seem to recall that he was very, very intense about hiding anything that might draw attention back to those theories." She looked from O'Neill to Carter and back again. "I hope the government realizes how much it owes Daniel for his silence," she told them. "He's put up with a lot of harassment and ridicule for the sake of keeping your secrets."

Carter hugged Sarah's shoulder. "We know," she assured her. "And so do others."

O'Neill noticed a doctor coming through the emergency room, looking around and coming their way, and rose to meet him as the two women turned as well, then rose to join him. The physician hesitated a moment, then looked at Sarah. "Dr Gardner?" he asked, then continued when she nodded. "I'm Doctor Zigaidy," he stated. "I was told you came in with Dr Loring?"

"Yes," Sarah told him. "This is Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter, How is she?"

"She's been very badly beaten, but fortunately we don't believe there's any major injuries to her internal organs besides some bruising around the kidneys. We'll be keeping a close eye on things over the next few days to be sure. She has several cracked ribs, though, and a dislocated jaw that we've dealt with and have ice on it to keep the swelling down. Our main concern right now is her concussion, and the amount of damage done to her feet. All indication is that both feet were severely beaten, bruising the tissue bone deep and possibly breaking bones in the sole of the foot itself. There are questions of how much nerve damage may have been done. With a great deal of time and therapy she may recover enough to walk again, but not without some degree of discomfort, or even pain."

O'Neill's jaw worked as he fought to keep his anger in check. "How was she found? Did anyone tell you?" he asked Sarah.

She was looking downright nauseous. "Face down on the floor, her feet tied to either side of a support post... They bastinadoed her feet, didn't they?" she asked.

O'Neill nodded and explained. "Saw it happen more than once when I was MIA in Iraq," he told the doctor and Carter. "It's not a nice picture."

"I don't know what they did, but they definitely did damage," the doctor told them. "X-rays are being taken now, I'll know shortly how bad the damage really is, but she was in a great deal of pain when she woke a short time ago. We had to sedate her to finish the examination, she'll be out for some time now."

"How soon could she be medivaced out of here, doctor?" O'Neill questioned.

"She's got a concussion, it will be a few days at the very least, any change of blood pressure would be very bad right now. She would definitely have to be under medical care during the flight, no taking her out of here on a cargo plane, Colonel."

"Lear medical jet, doctor and nurses on board," O'Neill explained.

"Two days, if your doctor is good he would insist on that as well."

"Oh, _she's_ one of the best. Okay, I'll need to make arrangements for a full time guard on Dr. Loring, though hopefully the threat to her is gone now. If they wanted her dead, they could have killed her under that platform and not bothered beating her. Carter, I hate to do this to you, but I want you to stay with Sarah and talk to the other students interested in joining on. Have them keep quiet about hiring on with the project and make sure they still _want_ the job, no sense Davis doing all that work if they're not going to stick to it. Sarah, how soon could that group get their degrees and get moved down to Colorado?"

"One to two months," she told him. "Teresa was the only one working on her doctorate, most of them are just after bachelor or master degrees. And she turned in her dissertation yesterday, she's done with school."

"Good, I would hate to screw that up for her, taking her out of here early," O'Neill replied, then turned to look at the medical doctor. "Can you have her ready to move in two days?" he asked.

The doctor considered. "It depends on what we find with her feet," he told O'Neill. "They may require some surgery if there are broken bones, but with the way they've swelled up, we might not be able to do that for several days anyway. If you're really set on moving her, then we'll concentrate on getting the swelling down so that your surgeon can go to work as soon as she arrives."

O'Neill nodded in agreement. "Sounds like a plan..."

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Keg looked over at his men, about fifteen or so hand-picked troops used to dealing with tight quarters inside and outside of Cheyenne Mountain, and motioned for them to start moving slowly forward, all of them staying alert for any sort of traps or warning devices. Two tripwires had already been found, set to trigger an alarm if pulled. Both had been marked by everyone on the team and carefully avoided, but they were all fairly sure there was going to be more of them.

Teal'c's report had been promising, and it seemed that Ferretti's boys had come through for them, taking out two outside guards without an alarm being raised and disarming the bomb under the central box car. However, it was Teal'c's warning about the far end of the car that had his curiosity up as to what the four of them had done. At any rate, they were still down there covering that end of the line, so Keg just had to worry about getting in there to begin with...

Moving in at his signal, two of his officers went to work on getting the door open as quietly as possible, officers who were wearing snug fitting gas masks to keep from inhaling the tear gas in the canisters they had at the ready. Keg would have loved to have used a Jaffa sonic grenade, but they were treading a fine line bringing Zats on this mission. Good old tear gas would have to do.

And it did very nicely. Shouts immediately started going up inside the cars as the canisters did their work, flooding the place with the noxious gas as his people got back and under some cover, waiting for their targets to emerge. A small 'bang' came from under the middle car as they waited, but other than making noise and shaking the place a bit, that seemed to have no effect.

Keg knew that explosive probably should have taken out all three cars, killing everyone on board and destroying all the evidence, but now that it had failed, they would be up against some very, very dangerous people. With nothing to lose, the rogue officers wouldn't come easily.

They didn't, but some of them went down easier than expected. Two people, obviously scientists, finally bolted, choking and coughing out of the nearest car and falling to the ground as Keg's men began to shout at them to do so. Another came jumping out the other end, obviously planning to run, but fell screaming to the ground as soon as his feet hit the leaf litter. Two more followed him, but one also fell with a shout, while Teal'c and the trio shouted for the third to raise his hands and surrender. The man took several shots at the four of them with a semi-automatic, then fell, clutching his shoulder as a six pointed, steel star dug deep into tendon and muscle to stick into bone.

Three more came out the forest end of the train fighting, but each one quickly fell before they got off to many shots. Still, two of Kegs' men were hit before they went down, and the place got quiet fairly quickly as everyone waited to see what was going to happen next.

Ten men from the rogue group were accounted for. Keg's intelligence had told him there were eleven on board. That meant that one man was still inside the train car, and Keg was considering how to get him out of there when a single shot rang out from inside.

After three minutes of silence, Keg headed in with two of his men, Teal'c joining them at the doorway as they headed down through the car, masks in place to protect them from the lingering remains of the tear gas. They found their final man right where the bomb had been placed, the remote for it lying half smashed at the base of the nearby wall and a bullet through his head. Obviously, to him at least, capture had not been an option.

"That should be all of them," Keg stated, looking around at the computers that had been bashed in in an effort to keep them from getting anything off of them. "Let's let this place air out a while, then the techs can come in and go to work, hopefully they'll find something useful out of this mess."

Teal'c agreed, and the four headed back out, Keg's men dragging the last man between them to add him to the few other dead agents they'd had to kill. More SGC troops had come in to help now, and Ferretti was with his trio at the far end of the car, shaking his head as the three of them helped deal with the agents they'd faced. "Okay, I want to know, what did you hit that guy with?" he asked, motioning to where one of the three was moaning on the ground, his feet shaking with pain as they bound his hands behind his back.

"Don't come to close over here, or you may find out the hard way," Carlson warned. "Morgan threw down some caltrops I gave him," he explained, carefully picking up a small item off the ground and bringing it over as Teal'c rejoined them. "Very effective little things, been around a few thousand years now. Roman legions used to throw them into the water when they were forced to retreat through streams. Think what kind of damage that would do, going through a sandaled foot or a horse's hoof..."

Ferretti shook his head, then handed it over to Teal'c to look at. The item was four sharp nails welded in a pyramid form in such a way that no matter how it landed, three points would form the base, and the fourth would stick straight up into the air. Stepping on one would definitely be uncomfortable even if you were wearing heavy boots, but jumping onto one, as the agent had done... Well, there was no way to protect against theresults when you landed on the things, as was clearlyshownwhen one of the medics with the group went to work on getting the man's shoes off his bloodied feet. Morgan had to pull the spikes out with pliers before they could do it.

Teal'c watched the three men work, Heasley carefully picked up any remaining caltrops to keep anyone else from a similar fate as Carlson turned the collected plastic explosive over to Colonel Keg to be stored away for possible reuse before going to talk to the medic who was dealing with the second agent's injured shoulder. The man was bleeding profusely, but not to an extent that his life was in danger as long as he got medical attention soon.

Watching the Jaffa watch his men, Ferretti smiled. "Well?" he asked.

Turning, Teal'c looked up at him from his place on the Segway platform and nodded his head in a bow of agreement. "They will do very well," he told the Colonel as an ordinance officer came to collect the Zat Ferretti hadn't needed to use, then turned and went on his way.

Chuckling, Ferretti made sure that the throwing star would get back to him later, then called his men in. "Come on troops, let's head back. They don't need us here any more..."

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Hello, I'm back! Yes, here is chapter 10 for your enjoyment and hopefully I can move a little faster with this now. This chapter took _four_ rewrites to even get it started, breaking my previous record. Hopefully the rest of this story won't be so difficult.


	11. Chapter 11

Leaving Colonel Ferretti out in the hospital hallway talking to another officer, Heasley walked down the hallway that the older man had indicated to him and stopped before the wide swinging doors that featured a sign reading 'ICU. Please call for admittance.' and had an arrow pointing to a phone on the wall. He hesitated a moment, then picked it up, hearing it automatically ring through. One ring, then two, then a woman's voice came over the line. "ICU. Can I help you?" she asked.

"Major John Heasley, I'm here to see Dr Teresa Loring," he stated, trying to keep his voice steady, but it wasn't easy. Ferretti had only been able to tell him that Teresa had been badly hurt, he hadn't been able to give him any real details on how and what had happened. "I'm her foster brother, and on her contact list with the college she was going to..."

"Oh, yes, we're expecting you," she replied cheerfully. "Come in, please, just stay very quiet while you're here."

The phone went silent and he hung it up as the double doors opened into the room beyond. Inside was a spacious room with a line of glass walled cubicles around the two farthest walls and a U-shaped station in the middle of it. At the station, three nurses were watching over the monitors that corresponded with each patient, while another pair of nurses were in different cubicles working with patients themselves. A doctor nearby was taking notes on a clipboard and didn't even glance up as he came in.

A second doctor was at one of the windows, a petite, red head with Major's bars on her collar who turned as he entered, then moved to join him. "I'm Dr Janet Frasier," she told him with a kind smile. "I'm glad you were able to come, Major Heasley. Teresa should be waking up soon and it'll be good to have someone she knows nearby when she does." Her expression grew a bit more serious. "Were you told what happened?"

"Only that she was attacked in Chicago and badly injured," he told her. "How bad is she hurt?" he questioned softly, very concerned about what he was seeing in that room. Teresa looked pale to him, the bruises on her face and neck standing out in stark contrast to the whiteness above her cheekbones. Her hair had been drawn back and put into a blue surgical cap, and a number of tubes were disappearing up under the blankets that covered her. Most worrying to him was the way the blankets were raised over her feet, and the thick tubes that ran up there from two small ice chests under the bed. He had seen that kind of thing before, when a fellow officer had needed knee surgery, but he hadn't had the nerve to ask what it was for. Had her feet been injured? If so, how badly? Would it be bad enough to cripple her, or just be a temporary setback?

"She's got a number of cracked ribs, so don't hug her too hard," Janet warned him, breaking into his thoughts. "Her lungs are fine and the internal bruising wasn't too bad at all, a couple more days and it will all be healed. Her jaw was dislocated, that's why there's some swelling in her face, but it was taken care of first thing after she was taken to the hospital in Chicago." Seeing his expression go from worry to relief and then back to worry again, she reached out and laid her hand on his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm very happy to tell you that _no_, she was _not_ sexually assaulted. Fortunately, whoever did this, they didn't go that far."

Heasley breathed a sigh of relief. "I was trying to figure out how to ask that..." he admitted.

She gave him a comforting pat on his arm. "That's what the look on your face was telling me, and as her friend, I was sure you were worried. It didn't happen, so you can relax."

Janet took a deep breath, then continued. "Unfortunately, it was her feet that suffered the most damage; her attackers beat the soles of them and even broke a few bones in the left one. The damage _may _be bad enough to leave her slightly lame, I'm afraid. We did the surgery to get the bones back into alignment right after she arrived last night, and she's on a slow morphine drip for pain. They kept her under heavy sedation in Chicago, so she's been kept under since the attack occurred three days ago."

He nodded, still worried as he looked from his friend back to the doctor beside him. "What else is wrong?" he asked, his expression pleading with her to tell him that was the only damage.

"That's all of it. It will take a few months for her to get over this, but we have plenty of time to let her heal, her job isn't going anywhere. However, I do have to worry about the psychological effects of this attack on her as well. If you can give me any insight on how _she's_ going to feel about what happened, I would appreciate it."

He chuckled, shaking his head as his gaze went back to his friend. "She's going to be mad at herself for letting them take her down, whoever they were. And she's going to want to skin them alive if she can get her hands on them. And I'd be more than willing to help..."

Janet sighed, almost sorry to disappoint him. "Someone beat you to it. We're sure the men who were responsible for her attack were found dead a short distance from the college. We know who they were, and we're fairly sure we know why this happened, they actually got a good amount of information out of the smashed computers in the boxcars you boys helped take care of." She chuckled, hoping to distract him for a moment and let him settle his nerves down. "Good work on that, by the way. Teal'c told me you and your friends did a more than 'satisfactory' job in helping to catch those rogue agents. High praise from Teal'c, I assure you."

"Where is he from?" Heasley questioned. "I've studied a lot about different cultures, and I've never seen or heard of anything that resembles that emblem he's got on his forehead."

She gave him a look of pure mischief. "No, you wouldn't have," she told him, reaching to open the sliding glass door into the private cubicle where Teresa was sleeping. "I believe Colonel O'Neill is briefing Colonel Ferretti right now, so I'm sure you'll be getting some of your answers soon enough. For the moment, though, let's go in and you can sit with Teresa for a while."

Following her inside, he took a seat beside the bed where he'd be out of the way. "What's the tubes and ice chests for?" he asked.

"To help keep the swelling down in her feet, we wrapped them loosely in ace bandages, then wrapped a water bladder around them," Janet explained. "The chests are full of ice water, which is circulated through the tubes by pumps to keep the bladders full. They're much better than ice packs, we can actually adjust the temperature to keep them from getting too cold and it doesn't put any pressure on her feet. It's very, very effective to keep swelling to an absolute minimum."

"Nice," came a murmur from between them and both looked down as Teresa's eyelids started to flicker open.

"Hello there, sleeping beauty," Heasley murmured softly, getting up and moving closer to take her left hand in his. "How are you doing?"

"Floating," she admitted, toggling her free hand in a 'so-so' gesture before Janet caught her wrist to take her pulse. "Good drugs."

"Slow morphine drip," Janet told her. "We're starting to taper it off now, but you're to let us know if the pain gets bad, all right?"

Blinking sleepily, Teresa tried to nod, then stayed very, very still, only her eyes turning Janet's way. "Don't know you," she murmured.

"I'm Dr Janet Fraiser, and you're at the Air Force Academy Hospital in Colorado Springs. You were medivaced here from Chicago yesterday afternoon."

"Did they... get the ones who did this?" she asked, blinking again, then flinching when Janet set about checking her eyes and running through her vitals.

"Someone did," Janet told her. "Did you see their faces when they went after you?"

"They were masked," Teresa replied. "The three that I first saw wore masks, I don't know about the woman. They got me down, stuffed that rubber ball in my mouth, then pulled a hood or bag over my head..."

That caught Janet by surprise. "A woman?" she asked, wanting to be sure she understood this right. "Are you sure there was a woman there?"

Teresa answered without hesitation. "Three men and one woman; I could hear them talking, though the sound was muffled, distant. Why?"

"The bodies of the three men were found shortly after they attacked you," Janet told her. "There weren't any women with them."

Teresa frowned. "I know that there were four," she told Janet. "And I'm sure that one was a woman, you have to believe me..."

Janet caught her free hand again and began to rub it gently. "Oh, I do," she told the younger woman reassuringly. "It's just we thought everyone was accounted for, and it's a bit disturbing to find they're not."

"Ah," she breathed, her eyes starting to close again. "I'm tired..."

"You should be. Sleep is something you really need right now, but you might want to say hello to your friend first."

Teresa smiled as she turned her eyes towards Heasley. "Hello, John. How long have you been here? Thought you were going traveling?"

"My ticket got canceled, and I was posted here to Colorado Springs. Same group you joined up with, in fact," he told her, lifting the hand he was still holding to kiss the back of it. "Now, you need to get some sleep, it's getting late. If my CO allows it, I'll be around when you wake up again in the morning, all right?"

"It's good to see you again, and I'll behave," she promised him. "Don't think I have much choice."

"Not this time, Silver. I have the feeling this doc would spot your tricks and more if you tried them, so just behave and do what she says."

"I will," came the quiet murmur, then her eyes closed and he felt her hand start to relax in his.

Janet looked at the monitors above the bed. "Good, she should sleep until morning. If you come back in between eight and nine, she'll probably be starting to rouse then, and you can help us get some food into her. I take it she's a reluctant patient?"

"Orphans tend to be, the only people they know they can rely on are themselves. Kevin and Denise are the same way, and try as they might, mom and dad never got them completely out of the habit. Still, she knows she's going to need help, or soon will, and while she won't be happy, she will be cooperative. For the most part."

Janet looked enlightened. "Ah, let me guess; standard reply to the question 'how are you feeling?' is 'I'm fine.'. Am I right?"

"You've run across the mentality before then?"

"Oh, yes. Okay, I know how to deal with her, and I think we need to leave her alone to rest. Come on, I'll show you out." Janet told him, motioning to the door. He followed her out of the cubicle, then out of the ICU ward.

Outside the ICU doors they found Ferretti waiting in a chair that someone had brought him, and he climbed carefully to his feet when he saw the doctor. "Now, here's a sight for sore eyes," he stated, grinning. "Dr Fraiser, it's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you as well," she told him, stepping forward and forgoing military protocol to give him a welcoming hug. "The Colonel told me you were going to be coming back the Academy to work. I'm glad to hear it, though you were one of my most _difficult_ patients."

"Hey, I spent a lot less time in your infirmary than Jack and Daniel have ever managed," he told her defensively, though Heasley could see he was doing his best to keep a grin off his face. "Siler filled me in a few days ago on everything going on, a bunch from the SGC have been helping me clean house."

"Good," Fraiser told him, nodding in a pleased fashion with a smile, then grew more serious. "Now, I would like this young man back in the morning, I'll arrange for him to have a tray with his friend so he can help us get her to eat. Will 0800 be all right?"

"I'll make sure he's free," Ferretti assured her, not even blinking when getting the order from a junior rank officer. "Thanks, doc. For everything."

"You're welcome," she replied, then shooed them both off down the hall.

As they walked away, Heasley glanced back over his shoulder to see her watching them with a pleased look, but Ferretti cleared his throat to draw his attention back. "She's the CMO on the base, and one of the best damned doctors I've ever known," the older man told him. "And O'Neill calls her 'little Napoleon' for a reason. He may grouse and grumble about her ordering him around, but there isn't an officer on the base who wouldn't hesitate to follow any order she gives. Keep that in mind."

"Yes, sir," Heasley told him as they headed out. "Is that who you were talking to, sir?"

"When you went in? Oh, yeah, that was O'Neill. He had some directions for me, and we need to get back to the barracks. The cadets should be moved in by now, and we all need to sit down for a talk."

Heasley considered asking what about, then decided he'd find out soon enough...

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"Lieutenant Commander Jordan?" came a call from near the mess door, and a half dozen heads came up around one table. Spotting his target, the sailor headed over to hand the young pilot/electronics engineer a hand written message.

Kevin Jordan gave the note a surprised look as he read through it. "Who did this come from?" he questioned, giving the man a sharp glance. "This isn't a joke, is it?"

The man stiffened. "I was given it direct from the Admiral's hand, sir," he stated firmly.

"Why in the world would he want to talk to me...? Bill, will you take care of my tray?" he asked one of his friends, rising from his seat to head to the Admiral's office.

"Sure, go," his friend urged. "Meet you back at the bunks later, you can tell us what's going on."

"Thanks," Jordan told him, and headed out after the sailor. He was pretty sure he knew where it was, but usually when something came up, it was the Captain of the ship they had to talk with, not the Admiral in charge of the carrier battle group.

It took a few minutes for them to reach the office, and the crewman tapped on the outer door, then stood back for Jordan to go in when the call came to enter. Nodding to him, Jordan stepped through, snapping off a salute to the waiting officers inside. "Lieutenant Commander Kevin Jordan, reporting as ordered, sir," he stated, standing at strict attention since he could see that both the admiral and the commander, who was his aide, were in the outer office.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Admiral Price stated with a smile. "Relax, you're not in trouble. At least, not yet... Come into my office, we need to talk." Turning, he headed for his personal office, the curious young man following along behind him. "Close the door and have a seat, this may take awhile."

Jordan obeyed, sitting stiffly in one of the chairs in front of the Admiral's desk as the older man sat down in his more comfortable seat behind it. "Sir?" he questioned.

"As I said, you're not in trouble, and the reason you're seeing me instead of Captain Thorn is because I'm aware of the real nature of this particular program." He picked up a folder and offered it over his desk. "Your transfer papers, Lieutenant Commander, and a non-disclosure form that needs your signature _now_, please. Your ride will be arriving about an hour after sunset. Take two days of clothing and any personal items you're worried about shipping in a rucksack. My man will be by in two hours to get the rest of your gear, I'll see to it getting shipped back stateside at our next port. You don't have much more than the usual duffle, I assume?"

"That and a small boom box," the startled Jordan replied, blinking, then looked down to the folder in his hands. Quickly he opened it up and looked over the papers inside, including the aforementioned forms. He quickly took out his pen, read through the forms, then signed them. "Cheyenne Mountain, sir? Isn't that Air Force territory?" he asked, handing them back over for the Admiral to date stamp them. That done, they went right back into the folder as the Admiral answered his question.

"Yes, it is, though there's a very large contingency of Marines at the lower base, which is where you're going to be going." Leaning forward, Price gave him a very, very serious look as he leaned his arms on the desk and lowered his voice. "I know some small amount of what they're doing at that base, Lieutenant. I was on a sub about two years ago that had to deal with the... fallout... from some of their work. What I saw down there... Well, I never would have believed what I saw if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. I asked some questions, signed a lot of papers and got a brief, very brief, explanation as to what we were dealing with on that mission."

"Why would they want a navy man on an Air Force base, sir?" Jordan questioned, confused. "They should have plenty of their own people to draw from for any positions they need to fill there. Shouldn't they?"

"Not necessarily. About four days ago, a call went out through every branch of the military. They're looking for personnel for this base, personnel with very, very specific training. Very rare training, I understand. How many languages do you know, Lieutenant?"

"Sir?" came the startled reply. "Um, eight, sir, six modern and two ancient. Though, of course, no one speaks ancient Egyptian, it's a dead language. We can read it, but we don't know what it sounded like."

"You've done archeological work, I understand?"

"Yes, sir, I have a bachelor's degree in archeology. It was a kind of family hobby."

Price nodded. "Yes, and that's the reason why you're being transferred to Colorado, Lieutenant. The Lower Cheyenne Mountain complex is hunting for ancient linguists and archeologists, as well as anthropologists and historians. And your name came up on their search engine."

"I'm... needed here, sir," Jordan told him, not sure he really liked the sound of this. He had a lot of friends on this ship, and he loved flying for the Navy.

Leaning back in his chair again, Price considered his words carefully. "I'm going to give you a little hint here, Lieutenant; this isn't the _only_ war that we're fighting. There's another war, a very secret war, being fought under that mountain in the middle of the US. I don't know the details, and I probably couldn't tell you even if I did know, but I _do _know it's going on. This isn't a cakewalk posting, you could very well find yourself in for the fight of your life. They're looking for the best and brightest from any branch of the military now, and from what I heard, they want you, and they want you _badly_." He smiled. "Besides, I think when you see the bird coming for you tonight, you'll change your mind fast. You're born to fly, son, and if you play your cards right, you could be flying one of the most unique fighter crafts in the world."

"If it's that special, sir, why don't we have it here for the war?" Jordan questioned, his curiosity growing.

"I asked that question too... International treaty drawn up a couple months ago says this craft can only be used for one purpose, and one purpose only. This war isn't it. I don't think I want to know what it's really made for, but you may be learning. Now, go get packed and make your goodbyes, your ride should be here in a little over two hours."

Jordan nodded, considering his next question as both men rose to their feet. "What did you see down there, sir?" he asked.

Price hesitated a long moment, then spoke, very softly. "A spaceship, Lieutenant. But not one like anything that _we_ ever made. And if you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll deny it. Dismissed."

More than a little stunned, Jordan left the office and headed for his bunk area, mulling over what the Admiral had told him. He couldn't believe what the officer had revealed. Surely he was mistaken...

He spent the next two hours packing his gear with his friends' help, sharing what little information he could with them about why he was leaving and where he was going. He didn't say a word about what the Admiral had told him, though, about the mission he had been on and what he had seen; that had to have been a joke.

Knowing it was likely a fighter of some type coming for him, he kept his bag small and packed most everything else in his duffle bag for shipping. A box was found for the stereo, so he didn't have to worry about it for the return trip, and he turned it over to the sailor when the man arrived to take them. He had changed into his flight gear for the trip, and was heading for the flight deck with his friends when word came over the intercom that all cameras were to be removed from the deck area. No recording devices were to be above deck or in the con tower for the next hour, or they would be thrown overboard. All off duty and unnecessary personnel were to stay clear of the flight deck as well. It was a surprising order, and made a lot of people wonder what was going on. "Your ride?" Bill Thomson asked, curious.

"Maybe. The Admiral did say it was something unusual and very unique. And there's got to be a reason why it's only coming in after dark," Jordan figured as they reached the door onto the deck. It was one of those rare quiet times on the aircraft carrier, the evening flights either still out on missions, or in for the night, so he had a few quiet moments to say his goodbyes before heading up the last flight of stairs to the deck itself..

Price nodded as Jordan joined him on deck. "Good to see you're punctual, Lieutenant Commander. Call came in a few minutes ago, and we should be getting something very different on deck in just a moment. This bird is stealth to the extreme, so we have no idea where she's going to be appearing from. No tail hook, though, and we were told she won't need our catapult system to leave."

"VTOL sir?" Jordan asked as he started scanning the horizon. After all, anything this secret was going to be really different...

"No idea," Price admitted, looking towards the sky, then he held up his hand to get his attention. "Hold on. Listen."

They both paused, silent, and then slowly started to look up into the night sky above them.

Dark and sleek, the wedge shaped ship came down out of the heavens like a fire bolt, the only light on her was the afterburner glow as it slowed, leveling off and circling the carrier before lining up for its landing. The strange aircraft almost seemed to hover in mid air as it slowly approached to set down gently on the end of the ship, then roll towards the waiting officers.

The pair slowly began to move forward, keeping a careful distance as they tried to get a better look at this strange craft, but with most of the lights off, their view was rather limited as the hatch began to rise. Jordan caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned as Captain Thorn came to a stop beside him. "Good luck, Jordan. Hope you get a chance to find out more about that bird, because I don't think the rest of us ever will."

"It's been a pleasuring serving with you, sir," was the Jordan's reply as Price stepped forward to meet the exiting pilot. "But I have the feeling my life's about to get a lot more exciting."

"You're probably right," Thorn agreed as they walked to join the admiral as the pilot stepped to the ground, his moves rather slow and deliberate.

Removing his helmet, the man shook out his silvering hair, then gave the waiting group a salute. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, USAF. Admiral Price, isn't it?" he asked, looking the man straight in the eye. "I remember hearing about your work up in the Bering Sea. Good work, sir, getting the rest of my people out of that situation early last year... I appreciate it."

"A pleasure, Colonel, though I was rather surprised when I found out that you were in charge and not the general on site."

"Major General Carter is retired, sir. And he was working with my team on loan, as it were." O'Neill's brown eyes flickered past Jordan to the Captain. "Captain Thorn, I hope you don't mind the Air Force stealing one of your crewmen."

"I admit to being curious about why an air force base needs a navy pilot on it, but I have my orders, as does Lieutenant Commander Jordan. Tell me, though, what kind of bird is this? I haven't heard of anything at all like it."

"It's called the X-302, and don't bother trying to look it up, sir. All you'll get to start with is a lot of confusion, and if you persist, you'll get some personnel showing up on your ship to give you a lecture on not asking too many questions."

"Does this aircraft have anything to do with the rescue we did in the artic, Colonel?" Price questioned.

"Quite a bit, sir, and that's all I can say on the matter. If it weren't for certain situations back home in Colorado, I wouldn't have been allowed to bring this baby out, but even I have to do some flying time to keep my wings. I had to get Presidential permission, but he went for it, and here I am."

"_Presidential_ permission?" Thorn questioned. "You got to be kidding..."

"Not at all, Captain, not on this issue. And I hope you warned your crew about cameras and staying below deck, because if any pictures show up anywhere of this aircraft, there would be major repercussions of the most unpleasant."

"They were warned, Colonel," Price assured him, giving Thorn a warning look as the captain bristled at O'Neill's comment. "Tell me one thing, though, are you always this outspoken?" he asked, a bit of humor in his voice to show that _he_ wasn't mad at any rate.

O'Neill gave him a dry look. "No sir, I'm being polite. Usually, I'm much, much worse," he assured them. "After you save the world a few times, your CO tends to let you get away with some sarcasm now and then. Lieutenant Commander Jordan, are you ready to go?" he asked, shifting his attention to Jordan as he held out his hand for the man's bag. "I'll stow that while you say your goodbyes to the officers here, but make it quick, we got to be back in Colorado before sunrise or it'll be a long trip from Broom Lake. I'd much rather park this bird at Peterson, less trouble."

Jordan nodded. "It'll just take one minute sir," he stated, handing over the bag, then turning back to the officers. A fast round of salutes and handshakes with the captain and the admiral, and he was ready to go. He followed O'Neill's directions to get settled in the second seat, noting that it was more chair-like than he was used to, with no connections for his pressure suit. In fact, he realized as the canopy came down, O'Neill hadn't been _wearing _a pressure suit...

The few necessary hands on deck cleared out the way as O'Neill talked to the main con, and a moment later he turned the odd plane to head for the back of the carrier. "Understand you're quite a pilot yourself, Jordan. Hold on, you're in for the ride of your life..."

With only that warning, the craft turned again and headed down the flight deck, dropping off the end of the deck with a slight lurch, then turning to shoot straight up into the night sky. Caught by surprise by the move, it took him a moment to realize something very strange was going on. Raising his hand, he frowned in bewilderment, surprised at how easily he could move. "This is impossible," he murmured half to himself.

"Oh, that," O'Neill's voice cut in, interrupting his thoughts. "Inertia dampeners, they cancel out G-forces completely. We'd be pulling about twenty-two gees right now if it weren't for them. One of the nicer pieces of technology we've been able to adapt for our uses."

"Adapt?" Jordan asked, not sure he really wanted to pursue this line of conversation. He looked out the window and gasped. "How high are we?"

"A little under 80 thousand feet and climbing," O'Neill told him. "We'll be in low orbit in a moment for a counter-revolutionary flight to the states. Will take us about a half hour to get in position for our decent into Colorado Springs, so just relax and get comfortable."

"Yes, sir," he replied, settling back and looking over the instruments in front of him. Some of them he understood very well, but a few left him mystified. 'Weapons Power Charge'? 'Life Support Power'? Was this a plane or a space ship? "How high can this bird go?" he asked.

"The prototype was somewhere out in the Oort Cloud when we finally lost track of it last year. The pilot and I were lucky to get out of it alive when we got close to Jupiter. And no, I'm not kidding you. Believe me, there is no where as cold as deep space is, and I damn near froze to death in Antarctica once so I would know." Reaching into his flight suit, O'Neill drew something out and passed it back over his shoulder. "Tell me what you think of this."

Taking what he quickly realized was a picture in hand, Jordan leaned slightly forward so that some of the instrument lights could show him what it was of. When he saw the very odd pyramid he couldn't believe his eyes as he realized it was like nothing he'd ever seen. "Sir, that's impos..."

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...sible..." Heasley stated, shaking his head at the picture they'd been given to look at. "Where in the world was this photo taken? If there was a pyramid that complete, everyone would know about it..."

Carlson leaned over to look at the picture himself. "Then it would stand to reason that either the pyramid isn't on earth, or it's a well doctored photo."

Heasley shook his head, starting at the picture of a completely intact pyramid surrounded by impossibly high dunes. "I've never seen anything like it. The style definitely Egyptian, but they never made them with entry ways like that."

More people leaned in to look at the large photo, Ferretti sitting at the end of the long table in the study area for the barracks they were now sharing with a dozen or so Air Force cadets. All of these young men and women were going into the SGC, and it had been decided to move them all in together for safeties sake. General Kerrigan was supposed to join them here shortly, but in the meantime Ferretti had given them something to look over. "It's not a touched up photo, that's what that pyramid really looks like, and that's what the area around it looks like."

"_Looked_ like," Kerrigan stated. "You are showing them the pyramid photos, right?" he asked, waving everyone down as he came to the table and sat down beside Ferretti. "It's not there any more," he told them gently when Ferretti nodded. "The entire area was destroyed last year."

Ferretti's look was one of shock as he realized what Kerrigan was saying, and what it meant to the people who had lived there. People that he had known... "The village?" he asked, going pale.

Kerrigan shook his head, pouring the colonel a glass of water. "Destroyed. I never heard how big the blast was, but I was told the pyramid was hit from orbit."

"Damn, and if it blew the gate..." Ferretti murmured, a painful look crossing his face. "I remember Carter's comments on that, and something that happened once; nothing would be left for hundreds of miles around the pyramid."

"You know what happened two years ago to Dr Jackson?" he asked gently. "He left for a year... I _heard_ that that's what happened to the entire village."

Ferretti's look turned to one of relief. "Oh, thank God," he murmured, rubbing at his eyes for a moment with the heels of his hands, then made himself turn back to business. He took a deep breath, slowly let it out, telling himself there would be time for grieving later, then pulled out picture two. "What do you guys think of this one?" he asked, sliding it across the table to the gathered crowd.

"No way..." one young lady exclaimed, turning it so that they could all see the picture. "That's got to be touched up. Some sort of special effect..."

"I took that picture, and I really wish this was a joke, but it's not; the guy on that ship killed a lot of good friends of mine. The head honcho's name was 'Ra', and he was a nasty son of a bitch."

"Ra, as in the Egyptian sun god?" Morgan asked, frowning, while Heasley started laughing, burring his face in his hands to muffle the sound.

"Yep, that was him. As Teal'c likes to say, he's a 'dead, false god' now," Ferretti told them. "Heasley, what's so funny?"

Heasley wiped away tears. "At his last seminar, Dr Jackson was heckled by a couple of archeologists. One of them made a comment about pyramids being a landing pad for space ships. How did Dr Jackson take the irony of that comment?"

"We were to busy dealing with the situation we found ourselves in for him to give it much thought. But Daniel's a man who can appreciate irony, so who knows. Here, I know you read Egyptian..." Drawing out a third picture, he slid it down the table.

"Interesting. Cover stone?" he questioned, quickly scanning over the picture and the writing on it. "What was it covering, and what is a 'stargate'?" he asked.

Ferretti grinned. "That is the million dollar question," he stated, pointing his finger at Heasley as he drew out the last two pictures. He pushed one down the table, showing the great double ring of the stargate. "What do you think it is?"

One of the cadets leaned forward to look at the picture with a frown. "What is that thing made of?" she asked. "I haven't seen a metal like that before."

"Nope, that's the only thing on the planet that's made of it," Ferretti told them. "Or, at least, that's the only thing we currently know of, though there might be some trace elements of it here and there in some of the artifacts we've brought back. Still, that's definitely the biggest piece."

"I have no clue as to what these symbols mean, though I think there's some of them on this cover stone," Heasley stated.

"Looks like something off a star chart," another student supplied, pointing out several and naming the constellations they seemed to match.

Ferretti looked at Kerrigan, who was definitely pleased. "Smart group," he stated.

"We only send the SGC our best," the General replied.

"Would hope so," Ferretti stated, and slid the last picture, this time of the active stargate, down the table, smiling as he watched jaws almost hit the table top when people saw it. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the world of Stargate Command."

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Entering the ICU early the next morning, Heasley had to muffle a yawn as he headed for the cubicle where Teresa had been the night before, then paused, realizing he wasn't the first one there. Dr. Fraiser was already there, talking with the same tall, silver haired Colonel that he'd seen talking to Ferretti the evening before, and his natural reaction was to stop and come to attention as the pair turned to face him. The man waved him off, though, before his back hit the proper pose. "At ease, soldier, I don't stand on formality. Especially not in a hospital."

Fraiser smiled. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, meet Major John Heasley," she stated. "Major, go ahead, Teresa is awake, but in a good bit of discomfort at the moment. I've given her something for it, but it will take a while for that to kick in."

"Yes ma'am," Heasley told the pair, nodding to them as they let him pass. He managed to hold off another yawn until he was past them, then had to give in to it. He heard O'Neill chuckle behind him, then speak softly to Fraiser. "Those are going to be spreading here in a few," the man said. "I'm about to come down with a case of them myself."

"That's what you get for spending the night out flying," Fraiser told him. "You're going to head home now, I hope?"

"For a few hours of sleep, yes. Hammond says he doesn't want me on base until after 1."

"Good. Then get out of here and go get that sleep. I'll make sure your pilot is properly escorted out of here, and gets some shut eye himself. Talk about jet lag..."

Walking into the cubicle, Heasley came to a sudden stop as he realized he wasn't the first person here. Beside the bed was the last person he expected to see, dressed there in his navy whites. But sure enough, it was a familiar face that turned his direction. "Hey, John, Teresa was just telling me you're here."

Stepping forward with a grin, the two men clasped wrists in a familiar greeting. "Kevin? But last I heard you were in the Med."

"Was until last night. Just flew in about two hours ago, we landed just before sunrise," Jordan told him, grinning. "And boy, are my arms tired..."

"Flapped them all the way across the Atlantic?" Heasley asked, picking up on the joke.

"Nah, Pacific. The colonel let the earth's rotation take some time off the flight."

Heasley nodded, then paused as he realized something. "Wait a minute... Colonel O'Neill flew you over?"

"Yeah, he's an interesting guy. Not bad tempered, really, but completely lacking any awe of the upper brass. Why?"

"I saw him here about nine o'clock last night, and it's just before eight in the morning now... You mean to say he got to a plane, flew half way around the world, picked you up, then flew back in less than eleven hours?" John asked. "What was he flying? A space shuttle?"

There was a soft laugh from behind them, and Heasley turned to see the doctor looking quite amused. "You're good," she told him, leaning against the frame of the sliding door. "Lieutenant Commander, you can fill him in later, right now you two need to concentrate on Teresa."

As Fraiser came in to check her patient, John turned his attention to woman in the bed beside him. "Silver, you awake?" he asked gently.

Teresa smiled at him while the doctor dealt with IV bags and added more medication. "Morning," she told them softly as she opened her eyes. "I had been wondering if I'd dreamed seeing you in here last night."

"No, I was around," he assured her. "How you feeling?"

"Sleepy, like Kevin," she told him as Jordan muffled a yawn of his own. "A little nauseous. I think we all need more sleep."

"I think you're probably right. We were up until two in the morning with a mission briefing," he confessed, giving Janet a measured look. "You work at Cheyenne?" he asked her.

The brunette smiled, still marking things in Teresa's chart. "I'm the SGC's CMO," she told them. "I know all about what the two of you were informed of last night. It's a lot to take in, isn't it?"

"I still can't believe about half of it," Jordan told them, sharing looks with Heasley, then looking down at Teresa. "They tell you about where we're going to be working, Teresa?" he asked her, reaching to brush back a loose lock of silver hair."

"Wasn't the chance," she told them, watching them out of the corner of her eye. They had braced herhead the night before to keep her from straining her still sore jaw. "Attack came before I could learn anything." She paused for a long, long minute, her eyes drooping closed. "Why did they do this?" she asked softly. "They said they didn't want me taking the job. But why?"

"They had their own plans, and thought your presence would interfere with them," Janet told her gently. "Don't worry about it right now, you're safe, and they can't reach you. That's why you were brought here to begin with."

"I just wish I understood more of what they wanted from me. They didn't ask me anything, just said it was nothing personal, and started beating me..."

"Don't think about that," Heasley told her quickly, moving around to the other side of the bed to take her hand, so that he had one, and Jordan held the other. "Right now, you just need to do what the doctor tells you and rest. Everything will heal, and you'll be fine, you'll see."

Janet went out, and returned a few minutes later with broth and tea for Teresa, two nurses following with heartier breakfasts for the two men. Unfortunately, it turned out that anti-nausea medication was necessary for Teresa as well, as lifting the head of her bed a few inches brought on a dizzy spell. The two men chatted with her until it passed, gradually working the bed higher until she could sip the tea by herself and insisted they eat.

They both did, catching her up on what they'd been doing and how they'd ended up there, but leaving out anything about the nature of what they'd found out about the job. It wasn't something she needed to deal with right now, and neither man was sure that this was the place for it either. When they were done eating, and she was lying back down again, Janet reappeared to chase them out. "There should be a place for you over with the other SGC personnel, Lieutenant Commander," she told him. "I would recommend a few hours of sleep, then get up, or you'll never get over your jet lag."

"Yes ma'am," Jordan agreed, yawning again. "God, I need a shower, shave, and some sleep, not necessarily in that order..."

Teresa's eyes were closing, and Heasley bent to kiss her cheek. "Get some sleep, we'll be back later," he assured her softly, then motioned Jordan to come with him. Jordan said his own goodbyes, then the two men left Teresa in Janet's care, heading out of the hospital to get Jordan settled for a nap.

Janet watched them go before turning back to her patient. "How are you feeling?" she questioned gently, then smiled. "And don't bother telling me you're 'fine', I'm all too familiar with that reply, I hear it all the time."

Teresa sighed. "I don't feel fine," she admitted. "My feet really, really hurt. And the drugs just make me floaty, they don't take the pain away..."

"I was afraid of that," Janet said. "All right, I'm going to try you on something different, but it's going to take a little time to set up. Until then, I'll give you a sedative so you'll sleep, all right?"

Teresa hesitated, then slowly nodded. "All right."

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Sorting through files and reading through reports just in from the SGC, it took Davis a moment to realize that the young captain he'd sent for was waiting patiently in his doorway for permission to enter. "Captain Drew, come in, take a seat," he told her, sorting out a folder from the large stacks in front of him. "I need you to make a run up to Alaska," he told her, handing the file over. "Check in with the local ACE base, then find Major Denise Rivers. Her orders and transfer papers are in that folder. She'll be allowed to finish her current project if she's out in the field, but we want her in Colorado ASAP."

"How soon, sir?" Drew asked, taking the folder. "Is there a time frame for this?"

"No more than a week, and warn her to stay quiet about the transfer. Someone has targeted at least one of our new candidates for the SGC, and I don't want anyone else hurt."

Drew gave him a concerned look. "Hurt, sir?" she asked.

"Yes, a civilian. She was badly beaten, they're not sure she'll be able to walk again," he told her. "She was an excellent field prospect, but now... Well, she may make it to the new base, but definitely not out into the field. At any rate, warn her, and look out for yourself out there. I don't think the people responsible are still out there, I think we caught them all, but we don't know for sure. And since you work in my office..."

"I could become a target. I understand sir, I'll be careful," she assured him, taking the files she'd need as well as the travel packet he was offering and making sure everything was in order.

"Hopefully you'll be back in a day or two, captain. Have a good trip," Davis told her, giving her a salute and watching her leave before turning back to his work.

Since her travel plans indicated she had 4 hours to catch a plane, Drew headed home to change out of her dress blues and into something a bit more comfortable to travel in. She had plenty of time to get to Andrews air force base for her trip across the continent.

Drew read through the file on Major Rivers on the flight, noting the woman's doctorate in engineering and her masters in archeology and philology...

It was a commonly thought that Dr Jackson of the SGC was a linguist. And he was, really, since he was a fluent speaker of over thirty languages. However, while he had a Masters degree in linguistics, his third doctorate was in philology, the study of ancient writing systems. Looking through the other files she had, she found that of the 'group' Davis was pulling together, only Major Rivers had any sort of education in this field.

Leaning back in her seat, Drew looked over the four files she had. Rivers, Heasley, Jordan and Loring... They were a ready made SG team, all they'd need is some off-world experience and they could handle the archeological needs of the SGC very well.

She scowled down at the records, three of which she wasn't suppose to have. Fredricks had sent them to her a week ago when they first started hearing about the group, and other than to tell him about Teresa Loring a couple of day later, she hadn't heard from the man since then. Rumor in the office had it that a rogue group had been taken out not far from the SGC. If that was the case, then she had to hope that no one gave her away and they'd managed to destroy the computers. Otherwise, she could have MP's knocking on her door to arrest her for treason any time now.

The irony of it all was that they weren't traitors. They were fighting to protect earth just as the SGC was, they just didn't have the resources to do it _right_. And the SGC wasn't doing the best job it could and _should_ be doing, bending to the will of alien '_allies_' instead of taking anything and everything they could possibly use to protect the planet, by force if need be.

And the powers that be couldn't see the problems within the SGC itself, the signs of burn out and fatigue that _had _to building up in the forces stationed there. As far as she'd been able to tell, some of the teams, especially SG-1, had been fighting non-stop for almost seven years. Yes, they got the occasional long weekend, but two or three days off at a time, especially since most of those down times seemed to correspond with injury reports, didn't constitute a real vacation.

It was a recipe for disaster.

Considering her options, Drew put the four files away into her case and turned her attention to looking out the plane window. She had a lot of decisions to make, and needed themmade before landing. Would she keep on the path she'd chosen, or go back to being the good officer and let her superiors worry about what happened in the SGC?

And trust they didn't cost the human race more than the planet could afford...

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I am so very sorry for the long delay on this chapter, but RL has been throwing the family some major curve balls, and I've had a hard time consintraiting on the chapter. Fortunately, we're over the main part of the problems, and I have chapter 12 started already, so hopefully you won't have to wait so long for it...

Reviews, as ever, are welcome...


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